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AENEID OF VIRGIL 





TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH-VERSE 
BY 


JOHN CONINGTON, M.A,, 


CORPUS PROFESSOR OF LATIN IN THE 
UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD. 


FROM THE LATEST ENGLISH EDITION 


7-58 DUANE STREET, NEW YORK 


A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
439 9.7 9 








145774 





PREFACE. 


Tue publication of a new translation of Virgil’s 
Afneid is a thing which may not unreasonably be 
thought to require a few prefatory words of ex- 
cuse. Itis true that the ground has not been 
pre-occupied of late years by any version which 
has attained any great degree of popularity. 
Previous to the present century, the extant trans- 
lations of the Aineid ,youtnumbered those of the 
Iliad and Odyssey ih the proportion of nearly 
three to one: now, while the press is sending 
forth version after version, of one or both of the 
Homeric poems, scarcely any one thinks it worth 
while to attempt a translation of the Roman epic. 
But it may be fairly doubted whether Dryden did 
not close the question a hundred and seventy 
years ago for any one not, like himself, a poet of 
commanding original power. In the century 
which succeeded him many literary men thought 
that they could improve upon him in various 
ways; but the verdict of posterity has shown 
that they judged wrongly. Pitt is the only one 
of these whose version can be said to be at present 
in existeuce : a dubious privilege which it owes to 
the fact of its having been included in the suc- 
cessive collections of English poetry of which 
Johnson’s was the first. Dryden’s style in poetry 
is sufficiently unlike that which finds most favor 
in the present day: but it cannot be said to be 

) 3 


4 PREFACE. 


obsolete. And though in its minuter shades it 
affords rather a contrast than a parallel to Virgil’s, 
they have at all events the common quality of 
being really poetical; that inner identity which 
far outweighs a thousand points of external simi- 
larity, supposing these to be attainable. Pope, 
writing according to his own genius, has produced 
something so utterly different, in all its circum- 
stantial features, from the product of Homeric 
genius, that an artist of confessedly inferior pow- 
ers need not be discouraged from attempting the 
task again: but there was no such radical differ- 
ence between the poet of Augustan Rome and the 
poet of Caroline England as to render it impossible 
that the masterpiece of the one should be ade- 
quately represented by the work which crowned 
the literary labors of the other. 

True as this doubtless is, it is perhaps never- 
theless possible that a justification may be found 
for an attempt like the present. It may be said 
that the great works of antiquity require to be 
translated afresh from time to time in order to 
preserve their interest as part of modern literary 
culture. Each age will naturally think that it 
understands an author whom it studies better 
than the ages which have gone before it; and it 
is natural that this increased appreciation should 
take the concrete form of a new translation. The 
translation, if in any degree successful, will con- 
tribute in its turn to extend and deepen the ap- 
preciation. It is not merely that different pas- 
sages will be better understood as criticism ad- 
vances, though that is something: it is that the 
work itself is better comprehended as a literary 
work; that the poct’s art is more fully realized, 
as shown in the thonsond minutigs which makes 


PREFACE. 5 


the poem what itis. A translation, as I have 
elsewhere remarked, may have as a piece of em- 
bodied criticism a value which it would not pos- 
sess in virtue of its intrinsic merit. Again, there is 
something in the mere fact of novelty ; something 
in disturbing the cluster of conventional associa- 
tions which gathers around an author, and com- 
pelling the reader to regard what he has hitherto 
admired traditionally from a new point of view. 
It is well that we should know how our ancestors 
of the Revolution period conceived of Virgil: it 
is well that we should be obliged consciously to 
realize how we conceive of him ourselves. 

Some may think that the meter I have chosen 
possesses few recommendations beyond the noy- 
elty of which I have just spoken. I certainly do 
not pretend that it is the one true equivalent of the 
Virgilian hexameter. Probably a better case 
could be made out for both heroic blank verse and, 
the heroic couplet : the ottavarima of Tasso also, 
as has been suggested to me, might put in a claim, 
not of course as giving the effect of particular 
lines, but as representing the impression made by 
the whole. But the question is not so much what 
is absolutely best, as what is best for the in- 
dividual translator. Blank verse really deserv- 
ing the name, I believe with my lamented friend 
Mr. Worsley, to be impossible except to one or 
two eminent writers in a generation. The heroic 
couplet would be difficult to wield to any one 
who was constantly reminded that he was expos- 
ing himself thereby to a comparison with Dryden. 
A regular stanza has trammels which would be 
more sensibly felt in attempting to deal with 
Virgil’s elaborately complicated paragraphs, than 
in endeavoring to reproduce the less highly 


-_ 


6 PREFACE. 


organized structure of Homer’s narrative. My 
chief reason for adopting the meter which Scott 
has made popular was that it seemed to give me 
my best chance of imparting to my work that 
rapidity of movement which is indispensably nec- 
essary to a long narrative poem. An ode of 
Horace is something to dwell on, to scrutinize 
minutely : a poem like the Aneid is something 
to read rapidly and continuously. A meter 
which gives the translator the hope of making 
his work interesting as a story is so far success- 
ful: a meter which does not give this hope fails. 
Marmion has been read by multitudes who would 
find the perusal of the. Paradise Lost too severe an 
undertaking ; and there can be little doubt that 
Scott would have done unwisely had he tried to 
produce a Miltonic poem. It is true, of course, 
that if Homer’s heroes are, as my friend Mr. 
Arnold so strongly contends, not mosstroopers, 
Virgil’s have still less of the Border character ; 
but it is better to run the risk of importing a few 
unseasonable associations, than to sacrifice the 
living character of the narrative by making it 
stiff and cumbrous. Apart from associations, I 
believe that the meter of Marmion and the Lord 
of the Isles is one that possesses high capabilities, 
even for a translation of Virgil. It is not with- 
out dignity ; it has lyrical tones which lend them- 
selves well to occasions of pathos. Its variety 
enables it, by a change of measure, to mark those 
transitions of feeling which no poet exhibits 
more frequently than the author of the Atneid. 
No doubt it is the part of a great artist to do as 
Virgil has done, and draw out all varieties of ex- 
pression from one and the same instrument: but 
to most of those who engage in the work of trans- 


PREFACE. 4 


lation it cannot but be an advantage to employ a 
measure which is really several measures in one. 
I will only venture to say that in more than one 
passage, where I have myself been habitually most 
affected by the cadence of the Latin, I have seemed 
to myself, rightly or wrongly, to have been able 
to produce something of a corresponding effect 
by in one way or another varying the measure. 
While wishing under all the circumstances to 
guard carefully against anything like a servile 
imitation of Scott, I have yet regarded him as my 
master rather than Byron. Unlike as the spirit of 
Border warfare may be to the spirit of the Aineid, 
the spirit of Oriental passion is still more unlike. 
Even the ballad-like peculiarities of Scott have 
some similarity to the epic commonplace which 
Virgil felt himself obliged by the laws of his 
work to borrow from Homer. It must be re- 
membered too that Scott’s poems, in respect of 
style, differ not a little from each other. The 
style of the Lay is comparatively rude and un- 
polished: the style of the Lord of the Isles is 
comparatively cultivated and elaborate. I 
need not say that it is the latter type that I 
have made my model rather than the former. I 
have sedulously eschewed what Mr. Arnold calls 
the ballad slang, even where it offered itself 
without the seeking: such expressions as “out 
and spoke,” “well I wot,” ‘“ All on Parnassus’ 
slope,” I have left where I found them. I have 
not indeed denied myself an occasional archaism, 
any more than Virgil himself has done, as I 
cannot see that “ mote ” for “might ” and “eyne ” 
for “eyes” are more objectionable than “faxo” 
for “fecero” and “aulai” for “aule.” But 
I have excluded all such primitive peculiarities 


8 PREFACE. 


as seemed inconsistent with high finish, exple- 
tives like “ did say” and “did sue,” and inver- 
sions like “soon as the wildered child saw he.” 
In the versification I have avoided, with scarce a 
single exception, that tripping anapzestic move- 
ment which deprives the Lay of dignity, and 
makes Harold the Dauntless read like a burlesque: 
where I have introduced a redundant syllable 
into a line, it has generally been in the case of 
polysyllables, by the use of which I hoped to give 
the line of eight syllables something of the state- 
liness of the heroic. Once and once only have I 
ventured on a double rhyme. These details are 
sufficiently trifling ; and I mention them merely 
to show that, in appropriating a measure of con- 
siderable laxity to a heroic subject, I have been 
more anxious to curtail than to extend the free- 
dom I have gained. 

It would be vain to deny that during the prog- 
ress of the translation I have often been made 
sensible of the profound difference between poe- 
try like Scott’s, which, with all its antiquarianism, 
is still modern, and poetry like Virgil’s, which, 
with all its modern affinities, is still ancient. An 
ancient narrative is minute where a modern one 
is brief: it is brief where a modern one is diffuse. 
Virgil is full of details, but always rapid: the 
reader is carried past a number of objects in 
succession, without being allowed, except on very 
rare occasions, to pause atany. Scott too is rapid 
after his fashion; but it is the rapidity of one who 
loves motion for its own sake, and to whom time 
is of no particular value: after a gallop of a few 
‘miles he is glad to pull up and descant on any- 
thing that he may be passing on the roadside. 
Even the constant occurrence of “ sic ait,” “ talia 


PREFACE. 2 


voce refert,” and the like, after every speech in 
the Atneid, which of course it would be unjusti- 
fiable not to represent in a translation, is enough 
to remind the translator that the taste of the 
readers for whom Virgil wrote is different from 
the taste of those whom he must himself endeavor 
to please. No doubt this disparity between the 
ancient and the modern manner would have made 
itself felt had I chosen a meter less connected 
by association with the present century. Even 
Dryden, though his manner is far less distinc- 
tively modern than that of Scott, surprises us 
from time to time with something which we feel 
he would not have said had he not been translat- 
ing: even Pope, though he has taken almost un- 
limited license to omit or recast anything which 
did not suit his notions of good taste in narrative, 
makes us occasionally sensible that the story he 
is telling is not his own. but I have sometimes 
thought that the style which I had adopted im- 
posed on me difficulties peculiar to itself, from 
which a more judicious choice might have pre- 
served me. Virgil was a more careful composer 
than Scott or Byron, not only in the selection of 
his words, but in the structtire of his sentences. 
He was a great rhetorician, and a master of that 
terse, pointed style of which the Latinity of the 
silver age is a development and an exaggeration. 
Sentences occur repeatedly in his writings which 
require to be rendered as briefly and compactly as 
those of Horace. Whether the octosyllabic meter 
is congenial to that mode of writing I will not 
presume to say: but it has not yet been applied 
to it, except, it may be, by writers like Gay, 
whose style is confessedly too low for heroic poe- 
try. Conseqnently I have frequently had to write 


10 PREFACE. 


in a manner which I was conscious was not the 
manner of my model, attempting to impart to the 
shorter couplet some of that dignified sententious- 
ness which belongs more properly to the longer. 
If I have failed in this, I can only excuse myself 
by pleading the necessity of choosing among 
difficulties, which appears to be the inevitable 
condition of the translator’s work. 

Perhaps I may be judged to have some advan- 
tage over my rhyming predecessors in respect of 
closeness to the original. It would be disecredit- 
able to me if the minute study which it has been 
my duty and my pleasure to give to every line, I 
might almost say every word, of my author in the 
prosecution of my commentary, did not reflect it- 
self to some degree in the translation. It is even 
possible that a casual reader may overlook many 
instances of close rendering; that he may sup- 
pose various forms of expression to be gratuitous 
which have been really adopted in order to bring 
out more fully the force, as I conceive it, of the 
Latin. The characteristic art of Virgil’s language, 
I must own, is a thing which I have made no at- 
tempt to represent. Whether that peculiar habit 
which I have mentioned elsewhere as common to 
him and to Sophocles, the habit of hinting at two 
or three modes of expression while actually em- 
ploying one, is capable of being transferred into 
Knglish, I do not know: certainly none of his 
translators has effected the transference. It is 
obvious that the experiment is one to perform 
which would require the utmost nicety : every- 
thing would depend on the exact poetical equiva- 
lence of the various turns of phrase, either 
severally or as presented in combination; and a 
shade more or less in each case might produce 


PREFACE. 11 


not beauty but deformity. Such felicities, in fact, 
though well worthy of critical investigation, are 
hardly to be discovered by critical search: while 
the translator was seeking them, any spirit that 
there might be in his verses would be apt to evap- 
orate. It is only one to whom they would sug- 
gest themselves naturally, in conformity I mean 
with his natural genius, who would be able to 
employ them in translation without injury to the 
character of his work: and he must be another 
Virgil or another Sophocles. A translator not 
so constituted will be better empoyed in en- 
deavoring to bring about resemblance to his 
author by applying a principle of compensation, 
by strengthening his version in any way best 
suited to his powers, so long as it be not repug- 
nant to the genius of the original, and trusting 
that the effect of the whole will be seen to have 
been cared for, though the claims of the parts 
may appear to have been neglected. Even 
the simpler peculiarities of Virgil’s style, such 
as his fondness for saying the same thing 
twice over in the same line, I have not always 
been at pains to copy. What is graceful in the 
Latin will not always be graceful in a translation : 
and to be graceful is one of the first duties ofa 
translator of the Awneid. It has often happened 
that by ignoring a repetition I have been able to 
include the entire sense of a hexameter in a single 
English line of eight syllables; and in such cases 
I have been glad to make the sacrifice. Not the 
least of the evils of the measure I have chosen is 
a tendency to diffuseness; and in translating one 
of the least diffuse of poets such a tendency re- 
quires a strong remedy. Accordingly, the duty 
of conciseness has always been present to my 


19 PREFACE. 


mind; and the result is that my translation, with 
its lines of eight and occasionally six syllables, 
does not, I hope, exceed by much more than one- 
half the number of lines in the original, where 
fifteen syllables on the average go to the hex- 
ameter, 

A similarity will occasionally be found between 
my own and other versions. In the few 
cases Where this arises from intentional appro- 
priation, or where I had reason to think that I 
had unconsciously recollected the words of others, 
I have made the requisite acknowledgment in the 
notes. Possibly in other instances also there may 
have been unconscious recollection, as a compari- 
son of the three rhyming translators, Dryden, 
Pitt, and Symmons, used to be a favorite occu- 
pation of my schoolboy days. My coincidences, 
I believe, are oftener with Pitt’s version than 
with either of the others; a fact which I incline 
to attribute to the more conventional character of 
his verses, which are seldom so individual that 
they might not easily occur to two writers in- 
dependently. My knowledge of the different 
blank-verse translations is very slight and occa- 
sional, [have not thought it necessary to say 
anything in the notes of the renderings that I 
have adopted, as what: I have to urge in their 
favor will be found elsewhere. In one or two 
instances I have ruled a disputed question in one 
way as a commentator, in another way.as a trans- 
lator, but only of course where a case could fairly 
be made out for either view. 


THE AANEID. 


BOOK I. 


ARGUMENT.—The Trojans, after a seven-years’ voy- 
age, set sail for Italy, but are overtaken by a dreadful 
storm, which olus raises at Juno’s request. The 
tempest sinks one vessel and scatters the rest ; Neptune 
drives off the winds, and calms the sea. Atneas, with 
his own ship and six more, arrives safe at an African 
port. Venus complains to Jupiter of her son’s misfor- 
tunes. Jupiter comforts her, and sends Mercury to 
procure him a kind reception among the Carthaginians. 
Afneas going out to discover the country, meets his 
mother in the shape of a huntress, who conveys him in 
a cloud to Carthage, where he sees his friends whom he 
thought lost, and receives a kind entertainment from 
the queen. Dido, by a device of Venus, begins to have 
a passion for him, and, after some discourse with him, 
desires the history of his adventures since the siege of 
Troy, which is the subject of the two following books. 


Arms and the man J sing, who first 
By fate of [lian realm amerced,* 
To fair Italia onward bore, 
And landed on Lavinium’s shore :— 
Long tossing earth and ocean o’er, 
By violence of heaven, to sate 
Fell Juno’s unforgetting hate : 


* “Millions of spirits for his fault amerced 
Of heaven,” Miron. Paradise Lost, hook i. 609. 


13 


Le THE AENEID. 


Much labored too in battle-field, 

Striving his city’s walls to build, 
And give his Gods a home: 

Thence come the hardy Latin brood, 

The ancient sires of Alba’s blood, 
And lofty-rampired Rome 


Say, Muse, for godhead how disdained, 
Or wherefore wroth, Heaven’s queen constrained 
That soul of piety so long 
To turn the wheel, to cope with wrong. 
Can heavenly natures nourish hate 
So fierce, so blindly passionate ? 


There stood a city on the sea 
Manned by a Tyrian colony, 
Named Carthage, fronting far to south 
Italia’s coast and Tiber’s mouth, 
Rich in all wealth, all means of rule, 
And hardened in war’s sternest school. 
Men say the place was Juno’s pride 
More than all lands on earth beside ; 
E’en Samos’ self not half so dear: 
Here were her arms, her chariot here: 
Here, goddess-like, to fix one day \ 
The seat of universal sway, 
Might Fate be wrung to yield assent, 
F’en then her schemes, her cares were bent. ° 
Yet had she heard that sons of Troy 
Were born her Carthage to destroy ; 
From those majestic loins should spring 
A nation like a warrior king, 
Ordained for Libya’s overthrow: 
The web of fate was woven so. 
This was her fear: and fear renewed 
The memory of that earlier feud, 


BOOK I. 15 


The war at Troy she erst had waged 

In darling Argos’ cause engaged : 

Nor yet had faded from her view 

The insults whence those angers gr‘ w; 
Deep in remembrance lives engrair.cd 

The judgment which her charms disdained, 
The offspring of adulterous seed, 

The rape of minion Ganymede : 

With such resentments brimming o’er, 

She tossed and tossed from shore to shore ” 
The Trojan bands, poor relics these 

Of Achillean victories, 

Away from Latium: many a year, 
Fate-driven, they wandered far and near: 
So vast the labor to create 

The fabric of the Roman state! 


Scarce out of sight of Sicily 

Troy’s crews were spreading sail to sea, 

Pleased o’er the foam to run, 
When Juno, feeding evermore 
The vulture at her bosom’s core, 

Thus to herself begun : 
«“ What? I give way? has Juno willed, 
And must her will be unfulfilled ? 
Too weak from Latium’s coast to fling 
Back to the sea this Trojan king ? 
Restrained by Fate? Could Pallas fire 
The Argive fleet to wreak her ire, 
And drown the crews, for one offense, 
Mad Ajax’ curst incontinence? 
She from the clouds Jove’s lightning cast, 
Dispersed the ships, the billows massed, 
Caught the scathed wretch, whose breast exhaled 
Fierce flames, and on a rock impaled : 
I who through heaven its mistress move, 


16 THE AINEID. 


The sister and the wife of Jove, 

With one poor tribe of earth contend 
Long years revolving without end. 

Will any Junw’s power adore 
Henceforth, or crown her altars more?” 


Such fiery tumult in her mind, 

She seeks the birthplace of the wind, 
A®olia, realm forever rife 
With turbid elemental life: 
Here olus in a cavern vast 
With bolt and barrier fetters fast 
Rebellious storm and howling blast. 
They with the rock’s reverberant roar 
Chafe blustering round their prison-door : 
He, throned on high, the scepter sways, 
Controls their moods, their wrath allays, 
Break but that scepter, sea and land 

And heaven’s ethereal deep 
Before them they would whirl like sand, 

And through the void air sweep. 
But the great Sire, with prescient fear, 
Had whelmed them deep in dungeon drear, 
And o’er the struggling captives thrown 
Huge masses of primeval stone, 
Ruled by a monarch who might know 
To curb them or to let them go: 
Whom now as suppliant at his knees 
Juno bespoke in words like these : 
“Q Molus! since the Sire of all 
Has made the wind obey thy call 

To raise or lay the foam, 
A race I hate now plows the sea, 
Transporting Troy to Italy 

And home-gods reft of home: 
Tash thou thy winds, their ships submerge, 


BOOK I. 17 


Or toss them weltering o’er the surge. 
Twice seven bright nymphs attend on me, 
The fairest of them Deiope : 

Her will I give thee for thine own, 

The partner of thy heart and throne, 
With thee to pass unending lays 

And goodly children round chee raise.” 
The God replies: “ O Queea, ’tis thine 
To weigh thy will, to do it mine. 

Thou givest me this poor kingdom, thou 
Hast smoothed for me th, Thunderer’s brow 3 
Givest me to share the Ylympian board, 
And o’er the tempest, 1ak’st me lord.” 


He said, and with ; spear struck wide 
The portals in the mvuntain side: 
At once, like soldiers in a band, 
Forth rush the winds, and scour the land: 
Then lighting heavily on the main, 
East, South, and West with storms in train, 
Heave from its depth the watery floor, 
And roll great billows to the shore. 
Then come the clamor and the shriek, 
The sailors shout, the main-ropes creak : 
All in a moment sun and skies 
Are blotted from the Trojans’ eyes: 
Black night is brooding o’er the deep, 
Sharp thunder peals, live lightnings leap: 
The stoutest warrior holds his breath, 
And looks as on the face of death. 
At once Afneas thrilled with dread, 
Forth from his breast, with hands outspread, 
These groaning words he drew: 
“O happy, thrice and yet again, 
Who died at Troy like valiant men, 
E’en in their parents’ view! 
2 


>) aa 


PrP 
ey THE ABNEID. 


O Diomed, first of Greeks in fray, 

Why pressed I not the plain that day, 
Yielding my life to you, 

Where stretched beneath a Phrygian sky 

Fierce Hector, tall Sarpedon lie: 

Where Simois tum les *neath his wave 

Shields, helms, and bodies of the brave?” 


Now, howling fro: 1 the north, the gale, 
While thus he moans him, strikes his sail: 
The swelling surges cmb the sky ; 

The shattered oars in s dlinters fly ; 

The prow turns round, cid to the tide 4 
Lays broad and bare therlwssel’s side 5 

On comes a bil!ow, mouibirin-steep, 

Bears down, ant tumble a heap. 

These stagger on the bill. ’s crest; 

Those to the yawning de oth deprest 

See land appeariug "nici [uc ~Wwaves, 

While surf with sand in turmoil raves. 
Three ships the South has caught and thrown 
On scarce hid rocks, as Altars known, 
Ridging the main, a reef of stone. 

Three more fierce Eurus from the deep, 

A sight to make the gazer weep, 

Drives on the shoals, and banks them round 
With sand, as with a rampire-mound. 

One, which erewhile from Lycia’s shore 
Orontes and his people bore, 

E’en in Aneas’ anguished sight 

A sea down crashing from the height 
Strikes full astern: the pilot, torn 

From off the helm, is headlong borne: ‘ 
Three turns the foundered vessel gave; 
Then sank beneath the engulfing wave. 
There in the vast abyss aie seen 


BOOK I. 19 


The swimmers, few and far between, 
And warriors’ arms and shattered wood 
And Trojan treasures strew the flood. 
And now Ilioneus, and now 

Aletes old and gray, 
Abas and brave Achates bow 

Beneath the tempest’s sway ; 
Fast drinking in through timbers loose 
At every pore and fatal ooze, 

Their sturdy barks give way. 


Meantime the turmoil of the main, 

The tempest loosened from its chain, 
The waters of the nether deep 
Upstarting from their tranquil sleep, 
On Neptune broke: disturbed he hears, 
And quickened by a monarch’s fears, 
His calm broad brow o’er ocean rears. 
Afneas’ fleet he sees dispersed, 
Whelmed by fierce wave and stormy burst: 
Nor failed a brother’s eye to read 
Junonian rancor in the deed. 
Forthwith he summoned East and West, 
And thus his kingly wrath expressed :— 
“ How now? presume ye on your birth 
To blend in chaos skies and earth, 
And billowy mountains heavenward heave, 
Bold Winds, without my sovereign leave ? 
Whom I—but rather were it good 
- To pacify yon troubled flood. 
Offend once more, and ye shall pay 
Upon a heavier reckoning-day. 
Back to your master instant flee, 
And tell him, not to him but me 
The imperial trident of the sea 

Fell by the lot’s award ; 


20 THE AINEID. 


His is that prison-house of stone, 
A mansion, Eurus, all your own: 
There let him lord it to his mind, 
The jailor-monarch of the wind,* 

But keep its portal barred.” 


He said, and, ere his words were done 
Allays the surge, brings back the sun: 
Triton and swift Cymothoe drag 
The ships from off the pointed crag: 

He, trident-armed, each dull weight heaves, 
Through the vast shoals a passage cleaves, 
Makes smooth the ruffled wave, and rides 
Calm o’er the surface of the tides. 

As when sedition oft has stirred 

In some great town the vulgar herd, 

And brands and stones already fly— 

For rage has weapons always nigh— 

Then should some man of worth appear 
Whose stainless virtue all revere, 

They hush, they hist: his clear voice rules 
Their rebel wills, their anger cools: 

So ocean ceased at once to rave, 

When, calmly looking o’er the wave, 

Girt with a range of azure sky, 

The father bids his chariot fly. 


The tempest-tossed Atneadee 

Strain for the nearest land, 
And turn their vessels from the sea 

To Libya’s welcome strand. 
Deep in a bay an island makes 

A haven by its jutting sides, 
Whereon each wave from ocean breaks, 

* There let him reign, the jailor of the wind. 

DRYDEN 


BOOK I. 21 


And parting into hollows glides. 
High o’er the cove vast rocks extend, 
A beetling cliff at either end : 
Beneath their summit far and wide 
In sheltered silence sleeps the tide, 
While quivering forests crown the scene, 
A theater of glancing green. 
In front, retiring from the wave, 
Opes on the view a rock-hung cave, 
A home that nymphs might call their own, 
Fresh springs, and seats of living stone: 
No need of rope or anchor’s bite 
To hold the weary vessel tight. 
Such haven now Aneas gains, 
With seven lorn ships, the scant remains 
Of what was once his fleet : 
Forth leap the Trojans on the sand, 
Lay down their brine-drenched limbs on land, 
And feel the shore is sweet. 
And first from flints together clashed 
The latent spark Achates flashed, 
Caught in sere leaves, and deftly nursed 
Till into flame the fuel burst. 
Then from the hold the crews o’ertoiled 
Bring out their grain by ocean spoiled, 
And gird themselves with fire and quern 
To parch and grind the rescued corn. 


Meanwhile Mneas scales a height 
And sweeps the ocean with his sight ; 
Might he perchance a capys mark, 
And Antheus in his Phrygian bark, 
Or trace the arms that wont to deck 
Caicus on some laboring wreck. 

No vessel seaward meets his eyes, 
But on the shore thre stags he spies, 


Qo THE ASNETD. 


ss 


Close followed by a meaner throng 
That grazed the winding coasts along. 
Ife catches from Achates’ hand 
Quiver and bow, and takes his stand ; 
And first the lordly leaders fall 
With tree-like antlers branching tall ; 
Then, turning on the multitude, 
He drives them routed through the wood, 
Nor stays till his victorious bow 
Has laid seven goodly bodies low, 
For his seven ships ; then portward fares, 
And ’mid his crews the quarry shares. 
The wine which late their princely host, 
What time they left Trinacria’s coast, 
Bestowed in casks, and freely gave, 
A brave man’s bounty to the brave, 
With like equality he parts, 
And comforts their desponding hearts : 
“ Comrades and friends ! for ours is strength 
Has brooked the test of woes ; 
O worse-scarred hearts ! these wounds at length 
The Gods will heal, like those. 
You that have seen grim Scylla rave, 
And heard her monsters yell, 
You that have looked upon the cave 
Where savage Cyclops dwell, 
Come, cheer your souls, your fears forget ; 
This suffering will yield as yet 
A pleasant tale to tell. 
Through chance, through peril lies our way 
To Latium, where the fates display 
A mansion of abiding stay : 
There Troy her fallen realm shall raise: 
Bear up, and live for happier days.” 


Such were his words: on brow and tongue 


BOOK I. 


Sat hope, while grief his spirit wrung. 
They for their dainty food prepare, 

Strip off the hide, the carcass bare, 
Divide and spit the quivering meat, 
Dispose the fire, the cauldrons heat, 

Then, stretched on turf, their frames refresh 
With generous wine and wild deer’s flesh. 
And now, when hunger’s rage was ceased, 
And checked the impatience of the feast, 
In long discourse they strive to track 

And bring their missing comrades back. 
Hope bandies questions with despair, 

If yet they breathe the upper air, 

Or down in final durance lie, 

Deaf to their friends’ invoking cry. 

But chief Aneas fondly yearns, 

And racks his heart for each by turns, 
Now weeping o’er Orontes’ grave, 

Now claiming Lycus from the wave, 
Brave Gyas, and Cloanthus brave. 


And now an end had come, when Jove, 
His broad view casting from above, 
The countries and their people scanned, 
The sail-fledged sea, the lowly land, 
Last on the summit of the sky 
Paused, and on Libya fixed his eye. 
*T was then sad Venus, as he mused, 
Her starry eyes with tears suffused, 
Bespoke him: “Thou whose lightnings awe, 
Whose will on heaven and earth is law, 
What has Atneas done, or how 
Could my poor Trojans cloud thy brow, 
To suffer as they suffer now ? 

So many deaths the race has died* 

And now behold them, lest one day 


” 


4 THE ASNEID. 


To Italy they win their way, 

Barred from all lands beside! 
Once didst thou promise with an oath 
The Romans hence should have their growth, 
Great chiefs, from Teucer’s line renewed, 
The masters of a world subdued : 


Fate heard the pledge: what power has wrought 


To turn the channel of thy thought? 

That promise oft consoled my woe 

For Ilium’s piteous overthrow, 

While I could balance weight with weight, 

The prosperous with the adverse fate. 

But now the self-same fortune hounds 
The lorn survivors yet: 

And hast thou, mighty King, no bounds 
To their great misery set ? 

Antenor from the Greeks could ’scape, 

Mid Hadria’s deep recesses shape 

His dangerous journey, and surmount 

The perils of Timavus’ fount, 

Where with the limestone’s reboant roar 

Through nine loud mouths the sea-waves pour, 

And all the fields are deluged o’er: 

Yet here he built Patavium’s town, 

His nation named, his arms laid down, 

Now rests in honor and renown : 

We, thine own race, on whom thy word 

Olympian glories has conferred, 

Our vessels lost, O shame untold! 

Are traitorously bought and sold, 

Still from Italia kept apart 

To pacify one jealous heart. 

Lo! piety with honor graced, 

A monarch on his throne replaced ! ” 


With that refulgence in his eye 


BOOK I. 25 


Which soothes the humors of the sky, 
Jove on his daughter’s lips impressed 

A gracious kiss, then thus addressed : 

“ Queen of Cythera! spare thy pain: 
Thy children’s fates unmoved remain : 
Thine eyes shall have their pledged desire 
And see Lavinium’s walls aspire: 

Thine arms at length shall bear on high 
To bright possession in the sky * 

Atneas the high-souled: nor aught 

Has turned the channel of my thought. 
He—for I now will speak thee sooth, 
Vexed as thou art by sorrow’s tooth, 
Will ope the volume and relate 

The far-off oracles of Fate— 

Fierce war in Italy shall wage, 

Shall quell her people’s patriot rage, 
And give his veterans, worn with strife, 
A city and a peaceful life, 

- Till summers three have seen him reign, 
Three winters crowned the dire campaign. 
But he, the father’s darling child, 
Ascanius, now Julus styled 

(Illus the name the infant bore 

Ere Ilium’s sky was clouded o’er), 

Shall thirty years of power complete, 
Then from Lavinium’s royal seat 
Transfer the empire, and make strong 
The walls of Alba named the Long. 
Three hundred years in that proud town 
Shall Hector’s children wear the crown, 


* A hint has here been taken from Symmons’s version 
of the preceding speech, where ‘ celi quibus annuis 
arcem ” is rendered (I quote from memory) 


**To whom thy nod has given 
A bright reversiox in the courts of heaven,” 


26 THE ASNEID. 


Till Ilia, priestess-princess, bear 

By Mars’ embrace a kingly pair. 

Then, with his nurse’s wolf-skin girt, 
Shall Romulus the line assert, 

Invite them to his new-raised home, 
And call the martial city Rome. 

No date, no goal I here ordain: 

Theirs is an endless, boundless reign. 
Nay, Juno’s self, whose wild alarms 

Set ocean, earth, and heaven in arms, 
Shall change for smiles her moody frown, 
And vie with me in zeal to crown 
Rome’s sons, the nation of the gown. 

So stands my will. There comes a day, 
While Rome’s great ages hold their way, 
When old Assaracus’s sons 

Shall quit them on the Myrmidons, 
O’er Phthia and Mycene reign, 

And humble Argos to their chain. 

From Troy’s fair stock shall Cesar rise, 
The limits of whose victories 

Are ocean, of his fame the skies ; 

Great Julius, proud that style to bear, 
In name and blood Tulus’ heir. 

Him, at the appointed time, increased 
With plunder from the conquered East, 
Thine arms shall welcome to the sky, 
And worshipers shall find him nigh. 
Then battles o’er the world shall cease, 
Harsh times shall mellow into peace: 
Then Vesta, Faith, Quirinus, joined 
With brother Remus, rule mankind: 
Grim iron bolt and massy bar 

Shall close the dreadful gates of Wars 
Within unnatural Rage confined, 

Fast bound with manacles behind, 


BOOK 1. 27 


His dark head pillowed on a heap 

Of clanking armor, not in sleep, 

Shall gnash his savage teeth, and roar 
From lips incarnadined with gore.” 


He said, and hastes from heaven to send 
The son of Maia down ; 
Bids Carthage open to befriend 
The Teucrians, realm and town, 
Lest Dido, ignorant of fate, 
Should drive the wanderers from her gate. 
Swift Mercury cuts with plumy oar 
The sky, and lights on Libya’s shore. 
At once he does the Sire’s behest, 
Each Tyrian smooths his rugged breast, 
And chief the queen has thoughts of grace 
And pity to the Teucrian race. 
But good Aneas, through the night 
Revolving many a care, 
Determines with the dawn of light 
Forth from the port to fare, 
Explore the stranger clime, and find 
What land is his, by stress of wind, 
By what inhabitants possessed 
(For waste he sees it), man or beast, 
And back the tidings bear. 
Within a hollowed rock’s retreat, 
Deep in the wood he hides his fleet, 
‘Defended by a leafy screen 
Of forestry and quivering green: 
When with Achates moves along, 
Wisltiug two spears, steel-tipped and strong, 
Whea in the bosom of the wood 
Before him, lo, his mother stood, 
In mien and gear a Spartan maid, 


98 THE ANEID. 


Or like Harpalyce arrayed, 

Who tires fleet coursers in the chase, 
And heads the swiftest streams of Thrace. 
Slung from her shoulders hangs a bow; 
Loose to the wind her tresses flow ; 

Bare was her knee; her mantle’s fold 
The gathering of a knot controlled. 

And “Saw ye, youths,” she asks them, “say, 
One of my sisters here astray, 

A sylvan quiver at her side, 

And for a scarf a lynx’s hide, 

Or pressing on the wild boar’s track 
With upraised dart and voiceful pack ?” 


Thus Venus: Venus’ son replied : 
“ No sister we of thine have spied: 
What name to call thee, beauteous maid? 
That look, that voice the God betrayed ; 
Can it be Phoebus’ sister bright, 
Or some fair Nymph, has crossed our sight ? 
Be gracious, whosoe’er thou art, 
And lift this burden from our heart 3 
Instruct us, “neath what sky at last, 
Upon what shore, our lot is cast ; 
We wander here, by tempest blown, 
The people and the place unknown. 
O say! and many a victim’s life 
Before thy shrine shall stain my knife.” 


Then Venus; “ Nay, I would not claim 
A goddess’ venerable name : 
The buskins and the bow I bear 
Are but what Tyrian maidens wear. 
The Punic state is this you see, 
Agenor’s Tyrian colony : 
But all around the Libyans dwell, 


‘BOOK I. 


A race in war untamed and fell. 

The scepter here queen Dido sways, 
Who fled from Tyre in other days, 
To ’scape a brother’s frenzy : long 
And dark the story of her wrong ; 

To thread each tangle time would fail, 
So learn the summits of the tale. 
Sycheus was her husband once, 

The wealthiest of Phcenicia’s sons: 
She loved him; nor her sire denied 
But made her his, a virgin bride. 

But soon there filled the ruler’s place 
Her brother, worst of human race, 
Pygmalion; *twixt the kinsmen came 
Fierce hatred, likea withering flame. 
With avarice blind, by stealthy blow 
The monster laid Sycheus low, 

E’en at the altar, recking nought 
What passion in his sister wrought: 
Long time he hid the foul offense 
And, feigning many a base pretense, 
Beguiled her love-sick innocence. 
But, as she slept, before her eyes 

She saw in pallid ghastly guise 

Her Lord’s unburied semblance rise 3 
The murderous altar he revealed, 

The death-wound, gaping and unhealed, 
And all the crime the house concealed: 
Then bids her fly without delay, 

And shows, to aid her on her way, 
His buried treasures, stores untold 

Of silver and of massy gold. 

She heard, and, quickened by affright, 
Provides her friends and means of flight, 
Each malcontent her summons hears, 
Who hates the tyrant, or who fears ; 


30 THE AENE1D. 


The ships that in the haven rode 

They seize, and with the treasures load: 
Pygmalion’s stores o’er ocean speed, 

And woman’s daring wrought the deed. 

The spot they reached where now your eyes 
See Carthage-towers in beauty rise : 

There bought them soil, such space of ground 
As one bull’s hide could compass round ; 
There fixed their site ; and Byrsa’s name 
Preserves the action fresh in fame. 

But who are you? to whom allied ? 

Whence bound and whither?” Deep he sighed, 
And thus with laboring speech replied : 


“Fair Goddess! should thy suppliants show 
From first to last their tale of woe, 
Or ere it ceased the day were done, 
And closed the palace of the sun. 
We from old Troy, if Tyrian ear 
Have chanced the name of Troy to hear, 
Driven o’er all seas, are thrown at last 
On Libya’s coast by chance-sent blast. 
Eneas I, who bear on board 
My home-gods, rescued from the sword: 
Men call me good; and vulgar fame 
Above the stars exalts my name. 
My quest is Italy, the place 
That nursed my Jove-descended race. 
My ships were twenty when I gave 
My fortunes to the Phrygian wave $ 
My goddess-mother lent me light, 
And oracles prescribed my flight : 
And now scarce seven survive the strain 
Of boisterous wind and billowy main. 
I wander o’er your Libyan waste, 
From Europe and from Asia chased, 


- 


BOOK I. 3] 


Unfriended and unknown.” No more 
His plaint of anguish Venus bore, 
But interrupts ere yet ’tis o’er: 


“ Whoe’er you are, I cannot deem 
Unloved of heaven you drink the beam 
Of sunlight ; else had never Fate 
Conveyed you to a Tyrian’s gate. 
Take heart and follow on the road, 
Still making for the queen’s abode. 
You yet shall witness, mark my word, 
Your friends returned, your fleet restored 3 
The winds are changed, and all are brought 
To port, or augury is naught, 
And vain the lore my parents taught. 
Mark those twelve swans that hold their way 
In seemly jubilant array, 
Whom late, down swooping from on high, 
Jove’s eagle scattered through the sky : 
Now see them o’er the land extend 
Or hover, ready to descend : 
They, rallying, sport on noisy wing, 
And circle round the heaven, and sing: 
E’en so your ships, your martial train, 
Have gained the port, or stand to gain. 
Then pause not further, but proceed, 
Still following where the road shall lead.” 


She turned, and flashed upon their view 
Her stately neck’s purpureal hue ; 
Ambrosial tresses round her head 
A more than earthly fragrance shed ; 

Her falling robe her footprints swept, 
And showed the goddess as she stept ; 
While he, at length his mother lnown, 
Pursues her with complaining tone ; 


32 THE AINEID. 


* And art thou cruel like the rest ? 
Why cheat so oft thy son’s fond eyes? 
Why cannot hand in hand be pressed, 
And speech exchanged without disguise?” 
So ring the words of fond regret 
While toward the town his face is set. 
But Venus either traveler shrouds 
With thickest panoply of clouds, 
That none may see them, touch, nor stay, 
Nor, idly asking, breed delay. 
She through the sky to Paphos moves, 
' And seeks the temple of her loves, 
Where from a hundred altars rise 
Rich steam and flowerets’ odorous sighs. 


~~ Meantime, the path itself their clue, 
With speed their journey they pursue; 
And now they climb the hill, whose frown 
On the tall towers looks lowering down, 
And beetles o’er the fronting town. 
Afneas marveling views the pile 
Of stately structures, huts erewhile, 
Marveling, the lofty gates surveys, 
The pavements, and the loud highways. 
On press the Tyrians, each and all: 
Some raise aloft the city’s wall, 
Or at the fortress’ base of rock 
Toil, heaving up the granite block : 
While some for dwellings mark the ground, 
Select a site and trench it round, 
Or choose the rulers and the law, 
And the young senate clothe with awe. 
They hollow cut the haven; they 
The theater’s foundations lay, 
And fashion from the quarry’s side 
Tall columns, germs of scenic pride, 





BOOK I. 


So bees, when spring-time is begun, 

Ply their warm labor in the sun, 

What time along the flowery mead 

Their nation’s infant hope they Tead ; 

Or with clear honey charge each cell, 

And make the hive with sweetness swell, 
The workers of their loads relieve, 

Or chase the drones that gorge and thieve: 
With toil the busy scene ferments, 

And fragrance breathes from thymy scents. 
“QO happy they,” Aneas cries, 

As to the roofs he lifts his eyes, 

“ Whose promised walls already rise!” 
Then enters, neath his misty screen, 

And threads the crowd, of all unseen. 


Midway within the city stood 
A spreading grove of hallowed wood, 
The spot where first the Punic train, 
Fresh from the shock of storm and main, 
The token Juno had foretold 
Dug up, the head of charger bold; 
Sign of a nation formed for strife 
And born to years of plenteous life. 
A temple there began to tower 
To Juno, rich with many a dower 
Of human wealth and heavenly power, 
The oblation of the queen : 
Brass was the threshold of the gate, 
The posts were sheathed with brazen plate, 
And brass the valves between. 
First in that spot once more appears 
A sight to soothe the traveler’s fears, 
‘ Illumes with hope Aneas’ eye, 
And bids him trust his destiny. 
- As, waiting for the queen, he gazed 


3 


THE ANEID. 


.d the fane with eyes upraised, 

.ch marveling at a lot so blessed, 
At art by rival hands expressed, 
And labor’s mastery confessed, 
O wonder! there is Ilium’s war, 
And all those battles blazed afar: 
Here stands Atrides, Priam here, 
And chafed Achilles, either’s fear. 
He starts : the tears rain fast and hot 5 
And « Is there, friend,” he cries, “ a spot 
That knows not Troy’s unhappy lot ? 
See Priam ! ay, praise waits on worth 
F’en in this corner of the earth ; 
E’en here the tear of pity springs, 
And hearts are touched by human things. 
Dismiss your fear : we sure may claim 
To find some safety in our frame.” 
He said ; and feeds his hungry heart 
With shapes of unsubstantial art, 
In fond remembrance groaning deep, 
While briny floods his visage steep. 
There spreads and broadens on his sight 
The portraiture of Greece in flight, 
Pressed by the Trojan youth ; while here 
Troy flies, Achilles in her rear. 
Not far removed with tears he knows 
The tents of Rhesus, white as snows, 
Through which, by sleep’s first breath betrayed, 
Tydides makes his muderous raid, 
And campward drives the fiery brood 
Of coursers, ere on Trojan food 
They browse, or drink of Xanthus’ flood. 
Here Troilus, shield and lance let go, 
Poor youth, Acnilles’ ill-matched foe, 
Fallen backward from the chariot seat, 
Whirls on, yet clinging by his feet, 


BOOK T.. 


Still grasps the reins : his hair, his neck 
Trail o’er the ground in helpless wreck, 
And the loose spear he wont to wield 
Makes dusty scoring on the field. 
Meantime to partial Pallas’ fane 

Moved with slow steps a matron train ; 
With smitten breasts, disheveled, pale, 
Beseechingly they bore the veil : 

She motionless as stone remained, 

Her cruel eyes to earth enchained. 
Thrice, to Achilles’ chariot bound, 

Had Hector circled Tlium round, 

And now the satiate victor sold 

His mangled enemy for gold. 

Deep groaned the gazer to survey 

The spoils, the arms, the lifeless clay, 
And Priam, with weak hands outspread 
In piteous pleading for the dead. 
Himself too in the press he knows, 
Mixed with the foremost line of foes, 
And swarthy Memnon, armed for war, 
With followers from the morning star. 
Penthesilea leads afield 

The sisters of the moony shield, 

One naked breast conspicuous shown, 
By looping of her golden zone, 

And burns with all the battle’s heat, 

A maid, the shock of men to meet. 


While thus with passionate amaze 
Eneas stood in one set gaze, 
Queen Dido with a warrior train 
In beauty’s pride approached the fane, 
As when upon Eurotas’ banks 
Or Cynthus’ summits high 
Diana leads the Oread ranks 


36 THE ANEID, 


In choric revelry, 
Girt with her quiver, straight and tall, 
Though all be gods, she towers o’er all 3 
Latono’s mild maternal eyes 
Beam with unspoken eestasies : 
So Dido looked ; so’ mid the throng 
With joyous step she moved along, 
As’ pressing on to antedate 
The birthday of her nascent state. 
Then, ’neath the temple’s roofing shell, 
On stairs that mount the inner cell, 
Throned ona chair of queenly state, 
Hemmed round by glittering arms, she sate. 
Thus circled by religious awe 
She gives the gathered people law, 
By chance-drawn lot or studious care 
Assigning each his labor’s share. 
When lo! a concourse to the fane : 
He looks: amid the shouting train 
Lost Antheus and Sergestus pressed, 
And brave Cloanthus, and the rest, 
Driven by fierce gales the water o’er, 
And landed on a different shore. 
Astounded stand ’twixt fear and joy 
Achates and the chief of Troy : 
They burn to hail them and salute, 
But wildering wonder keeps them mute. 
So, peering through their cloudy screen, 
They strive the broken tale to glean, 
Where rest the vessels and the crew, 
And wherefore thus they come to sue: 
For every ship her chief had sent, 
And clamoring towards the fane they went. 


Then, audience granted by the queen, 
Ilioneus spoke with placid mien: 


7 - 


BOOK I. 


“Lady, whom gracious Jove has willed 
A city in the waste to build, 
And minds of savage temper school 
By justice’ humanizing rule, 
We, tempest-tost on every wave, 
Poor Trojans, your compassion crave 
From hideous flame our barks to saves 
Commiserate our wretched case, 
And war not on a pious race. 
We come not, we, to spoil and slay 
Your Libyan households, sweep the prey 
Off to the shore, then haste away : 
Meek grows the heart by misery cowed, 
And vanquished souls are not so proud. 
A land there is, by Greece of old 
Known as Hesperia, rich its mold, 
Its children brave and free: 
(Enotrians were its planters: Fame 
Now gives the race their leader’s name, 
And calls it Italy. 
There lay our course, when, grief to tell, 
Orion, rising with a swell, 
Hurled us on shoals, and scattered wide 
O’er pathless rocks along the tide 
’*Mid swirling billows: thence our crew 
Drifts to your coast, a rescued few. 
‘ What tribe of human kind is here ? 
What barbarous region yields such cheer? 
EH’en the cold welcome of the sand 
To travelers is barred and banned : 
Iere earth we touch, they draw the sword, 
And drive us from the bare seaboard. 
If men and mortal arms ye slight, 
Know there are Gods who watch o’er right, 
/Eneas was our king, than who 
Vhe breath of being none e’er drew, 


145774 


37 


THE ASNEID. 


oo 
iw 8) 


More brave, more pious, or more true: 

If he still looks upon the sun, 

No specter yet, our fears are done, 

Nor need you doubt to assume the lead 

In rivalry of generous deed. 

Sicilia too, no niggard field, 

Has towns to hold us, arms to shield, 

And king Acestes, brave and good, 

In heart a Trojan, as in blood. 

Give leave to draw our ships ashore, 

There smooth the plank and shape the oar: 

So, should our friends, our king survive, 

For Italy we yet may strive: 

But if our hopes are quenched, and thee, 
Best father of the sons of Troy, 

Death hides beneath the Libyan sea, 
Nor spares to us thy princely boy, 

Yet may we seek Sicania’s land, 

Her mansions ready to our hand, 

And dwell where we were guests so late, 

The subjects of Acestes’ state.” 

So spoke Ilioneus: and the rest 

With shouts their loud assent expressed. 


Then, looking downward, Dido said: 
“Discharge you, Trojans, of your dread : 
An infant realm and fortune hard 
Compel me thus my shores to guard. 
Who knows not of A£neas’ name, 

Of Troy, her fortune and her fame, 
And that devouring war ? \ 
Our Punic breasts have more of fire, 
Nor all so retrograde from Tyre 
Doth Phoebus yoke his car. 
Whate’er your choice, the Hesperian plain, 
Or Eryx and Acestes’ reign, 


BOOK I. 39 


My arms shall guard you in your way, 
My treasuries your,needs purvey. 

Or would a home on Libya’s shores 
Allure you more? this town is yours: 
Lay up your vessels: Tyre and Troy 
Alike shall Dido’s thoughts employ. 
And would we had your monarch too, 
Driven hither by the blast, like you, 
The great Aneas! I will send 

And search the coast from end to end, 
If haply, wandering up and down, 

He bide in woodland or in town.” 


In breathless eagerness of joy 
Achates and the chief of Troy 
Were yearning long the cloud to burst: 
And thus Achates spoke the first: 
«¢ What now, my chief, the thoughts that rise 
Within you? see, before your eyes 
Your fleet, your friends resvored ; 
Save one, who sank beneath the tide 
H’en in our presence: all beside 
Confirms your mother’s word.” 


Scarce had he said, the mist gives way 
And purges brightening into day ; 
Aneas stood, to sight confest, 
A very God in face and chest: 
For Venus round her darling’s head 
A length of clustering locks had spread, 
Crowned him with youth’s purpureal light, 
And made his eyes gleam glad and bright: 
Such loveliness the hands of art 
To ivory’s native hues impart: 
So ’mid the gold around it placed 
Shines silver pale or marb!2 chaste. 


40 ' THE ASNEID. 


Then in a moment, unforeseen 
Of all, he thus bespeaks the queen: 
“ Lo, him you ask for! I am he, 
Eneas, saved from Libya’s sea. 
O, only heart that deigns to mourn 
For Ilium’s cruel care! 
That bids e’en us, poor relics, torn 
From Danaan fury, all outworn 
By earth and ocean, all forlorn, 
Its home, its city share! 
We cannot thank you; no, nor they, 
Our brethren of the Dardan race, 
Who, driven froin their ancestral place, 
Throughout the wide world stray. 
May Heaven, if virtue claim its thought, 
If justice yet avail for aught, 
Heaven, and the sense of conscious right, 
With worthier meed your acts requite ! 
What happy ages gave you birth? 
What glorious sires begat such worth? 
While rivers run into the deep, 
While shadows o’er the hillside sweep, 
While stars in heaven’s fair pasture graze, 
Shall live your honor, name, and praise, 
Whate’er my destined home.” He ends, 
And turns him to his Trojan friends ; 
Ilioneus with his right hand greets, 
And with the left Serestus meets ; 
Then to the rest like welcome gave, 
Brave Gyas and Cloanthus brave. 


Thus as she listened, first his mien, 
His sorrow next, entranced the queen, 
And “ Say,” cries she, “ what cruel wrong 
Pursued you, goddess-born, so long ? 
What violence has your navy driven 


BOOK Tf. 


On this rude coast, of all ’neavh heaven ? 
And are you he, on Simois’ shore 
Whom Venus to Anchises bore, 
fneas? Well I mind the name, 
Since Teucer first to Sidon came, 
Driven from his home, in hope to gain 
By Belus’ aid another reign, 
What time my father ruled the land 
Of Cyprus with a conqueror’s hand. 
Then first the fall of Troy I knew, 
And heard of Grecia’s kings, and you. 
Oft, I remember, would he glow 
In praise of Troy, albeit her foe ; 
Oft would he boast, with generous pride, 
Himself to Troy’s old line allied. 
Then enter, chiefs, these friendly doors}; 
I too have had my fate, like yours, 
Which, many a suffering overpast, 
Has willed to fix me here at last. 
Myself not ignorant of woe, 
Compassion I have learned to show.” 
She speaks, and speaking leads the way 
To where her palace stands, 
And through the fanes a solemn day 
Of sacrifice commands. 
Nor yet unmindful of his friends, 
Her bounty to the shore she sends, 
A hundred bristly swine, 
A herd of twenty beeves, of lambs 
A hundred, with their fleecy dams, 
And spirit-cheering wine. 


And now that palace they array 
With all the state that kings display, 
And through the central breadth of hall 
Prepare the sumptuous festival : 


41 


49 THE AENEID. 


There, wrought witb many a fair design, 
Rich coverlets of purple shine : 

Bright silver loads the boards, and gold 
Where deeds of hero-sires are told, 
From chief to chief in sequence drawn, 
E’en from proud Sidon’s earliest dawn. 


Meantime Eneas, loth to lose 
The father in the king, 
Sends down Achates to his crews: 
“Haste, to Ascanius bear the news, 
Himself to Carthage bring.” 
A father’s care, a father’s joy, 
All center in the darling boy. 
ich presents too he bids be brought, 
Scarce saved when Troy’s last flight was fought, 
A pall with stiffening gold inwrought, 
A veil, the marvel of the loom, 
Edged with acanthus’ saffron bloom 
These Leda once to Helen gave, A 
And Helen from Mycenz bore, hia 
What time to Troy she crossed the wave 
With that her unblessed paramour ; 
The scepter Priam’s eldest fair, 
Ilione, was wont to bear ; 
Her necklace, and her coronet 
With gold and gems in circle set. 
Such mandate hastening to obey, 
Achates takes his shoreward way. 


But Cytherea’s anxious mind 
New arts, new stratagems designed, 
That Cupid, changed in mien and face, 
Should come in sweet Ascanius’ place, 
Fire with his gifts the royal dame, 
And thread each leaping vein with flame. 


BOOK I. 


The palace of deceit she fears, 

The double tongues of Tyre ; 
Fell Juno’s form at night appears, 

And burns her like a fire. 
So to her will she seeks to move ‘ 
The winged deity of Love: 
“My son, my strength, my virtue born, 
Who laugh’st Jove’s Titan bolts to scorn, 
To thee for succor I repair, 
And breathe the voicc of suppliant prayer. 
How Juno drives from coast to coast 
Thy Trojan brother, this thou know’st, 
And oft hast bid thy sorrows flow 
With mine in pity of his woe. 
Him now this Tyvian entertains, 
And with soft speech his stay constrains: 
But I, I cannot brook with ease * 
Junonian hospitalities ; 
Nor, where our fortunes hinge and turn, 
Can she tong rest in unconcern. 
Fain would I first ensnare the dame, 
And wrap her :2agured heart in flame ; 
So, ere she change by power malign, 
E®neas’ love shall bind her mine. 
Such triumph how thou mayst achieve, 
The issue of my thought receive. 
To Sidon’s town the princely heir, 
The darling motive of my care, 
Sets out at summons of his sire, 
With presents, saved from flood and@ fire. 
Him, in the bands of slumber tied, 
In high Cythera I will hide, 
Or blest Idalia, safe and far, 


* «* Junonian hospitalities prepare 
Such apt occasion that I dread a snare.” 


43 


W oRDSWORTH (in Pliiivlogical Museum). 


44 THE ASNEID. 


Lest he perceive the plot, or mar. 

Thou for one night supply his room, 
Thyself a boy, the boy assume ; 

That when the queen, with rapture glowing, 
While boards blaze rich and wine is flowing, 
Shall make thee nestle in her breast, 

And to thy lips her lips are prest, 

The stealthy plague thou mayst inspire, 
And thrill her with contagious fire.” 


Young Love obeyed, his plumage stripped, 

And, laughing, like Tulus tripped. 
But Venus on her grandson strows 
The dewy softness of repose, 
And laps him in her robe, and bears 
To tall Idalia’s fragrant airs, 
Where soft amaracus receives 
And gently curtains him with leaves: 
While Cupid, tutored to obey, 
Beside Achates takes his way, 
And bears the presents, blithe and gay. 
Arrived, he finds the Tyrian queen 
On tapestry laid of gorgeous sheen, 
In central place, her guests between. 
There lies Aineas, there his train, 
All stretched at ease on purple grain. 
Slaves o’er their hands clear water pour, 
Deal round the bread from basket-store, 

And napkins thick with wool: 
Within full fifty maids supply 
Fresh food, and make the hearths blaze high: 
A hundred more of equal age, 
Each with her fellow, girl and page, 
Serve to the gathered company 

The meats and goblets full. 
The invited Tyrians throng the hall, 


Ee 


BOOK I, 45 


And on the ’broidered couches fall. 

They marvel as the gifts they view, 
They marvel at the bringer too, 

The features where the God shines through, 
The tones his mimic voices assumes, 

The pall, the veil with saffron blooms. 
But chiefly Dido, doomed to ill, 

Her soul with gazing cannot fill, 

And, kindling with delirious fires, 
Admires the boy, the gift admires. 

He, having hung a little space 

Clasped in Aineas’ warm embrace, 

And satisfied the fond desire 

Of that his counterfeited sire, 

Turns him to Dido. Heart and eye 

She clings, she cleaves, she makes him lie 
Lapped in her breast, nor knows, lost fair, 
How dire a God sits heavy there. 

But he, too studious to fulfil 

His Acidalian mother’s will, 

Begins to cancel trace by trace 

The imprint of Sychzeus’ face, 

And bids a living passion steal 

On senses long unused to feel. 


Soon as the feast begins to lull, 

And boards are cleared away, 
They place the bowls, all brimming full, 

And wreathe with garlands gay. 
Up to the rafters mounts the din, 
And voices swell and heave within : 
From the gilt roof hang cressets bright, 
And flambeau-fires put out the night. 
The queen gives charge: a cupis brought 
With massy gold and jewels wrought, 
Whence ancient Belus quaffed his wine, 


46 THE ANEID. 


And all the kings of Belus’ line. 

Then silence reigns: “ Great Jove, who know’st 

The mutual rights of guest and host, 

O make this day a day of joy 

Alike to Tyre and wandering Troy, 

And may our children’s children feel 

The blessing of the bond we seal ! 

Be Bacchus, giver of glad cheer, 

And bounteous Juno, present here! 

And, Tyrians, you with frank good-will, 

Our courteous purposes fulfil.” 

She spoke, and on the festal board 

The meed of due libation poured, 

Touched with her lip the goblet’s edge, 

Then challenged Bitias to the pledge. 

He grasped the cup with eager hold, 

And drenched him with the foaming gold 

The rest succeed. Iopas takes 

His gilded lyre, its chord awakes, 

The long-haired bard, rehearsing sweet 

The descant learned at Atlas’ feet. 

He sings the wanderings of the moon, 

The sun eclipsed in deathly swoon, 

Whence humankind and cattle came, 

And whence the rain-spout and the flame, 

Arcturus and the two bright Bears, 

And Hyads weeping showery tears, 

Why winter suns so swiftly go, 

And why the weary nights move slow. 

With plaudits Tyre the minstrel greets, 

And Troy the loud acclaim repeats. 

And now discourse succeeds to song: 

Poor Dido makes the gay night long, 

Still drinking love-draughts, deep and strong: 

Much of great Priam asks the dame, 
Much of his greater son: 


BOOK I. 47 


Now of Tydides’ steeds of flame, 
Now in what armor Memnon came, 
Now how Achilles shone. 
“ Nay, guest,” she cries, “ vouchsafe a space 
The tale of Danaan fraud to trace, 
_ The dire misfortunes of your race, 
These wanderings of your own: 
For since you first ’gan wander o’er 
Yon homeless world of sea and shore, 
Seven summers nigh have flown.” 


48 THE ANEID. 


“BOOK II. 


ARGUMENT.—Eneas relates how the city of Troy 
was taken, after a ten years’ siege, by the treachery of 
Sinon, and the stratagem of a wooden horse. He de- 
clares the fixed resolution he had taken, not to survive 
the ruin of his country, and the various adventures he 
met with in the defense of it. At last having been 
before advised by Hector’s ghost, and _now_by the ap- 
So pommlgree ee he is prevailed upon to 
leave the town, and settle hishousehold gods in another 
country. In order to this he carries off his father 
on his shoulders, and leads his little son by the hand, 
his wife following him behind. When he comes to the 
place appointed for the general rendezvous, he finds a 
great confluence of people, but misses his wife, whose 
ghost afterwards appears to him, and tells him the land 
which was designed for him. 


Eacu eye was fixed, each lip compressed, 
When thus began the heroic guest: 


“Too cruel, lady, is the pain 
You bid me thus revive again ; 
How lofty Ilium’s throne august 
Was laid by Greece in piteous dust, 
The woes I saw with these sad eyne, 
The deeds whereof large part was mine: 
What Argive, when the tale were told, 
What Myrmidon of sternest mold, 
What foe from Ithaca could hear, 
And grudge the tribute of a tear? 
Now dews precipitate the night, 
And setting stars to rest invite: 
Yet, if so keen your zeal to know 


—— tt 


BOOK IL 49 


In brief the tale of Troy’s last woe, 

Though memory shrinks with backward start, 
And sends a shudder to my heart, 

I take the word. 


Worn down by wars, 

Long beating ’gainst Fate’s dungeon-bars, 

As year kept chasing year, 
The Danaan chiefs, with cunning given 
By Pallas, mountain-high to heaven 

A giant horse uprear, 
And with compacted beams of pine 
The texture of its ribs entwine. 
A vow for their return they feign: 
So runs the tale, and spreads amain. 
There in the monster’s cavernous side 
Huge frames of chosen chiefs they hide, 
And steel-clad soldiery finds room 
Within that death-producing womb. 


An isle there lies in Ilium’s sight, 

And Tenedos its name, 

While Priam’s fortune yet was bright, 
Known for its wealth to fame: 

Now all has dwindled to a bay, 

Where ships in treacherous shelter stay. 

Thither they sail, and hide their host 

Along its desolated coast. 

We thought them to Mycene flown, 

And rescued Troy forgets to groan. 

Wide stand the gates: what joy to go 
The Dorian camp to see, 

The land disburthened of the foe, 
The shore from vessels free! 

There pitched Thessalia’s squadron, there 
Achilles’ tent was set: 


4 


50 THE AINEID. 


There, drawn on land, their navies were, 
And there the battle met. 

Some on Minerva’s offering gaze, 

And view its bulk with strange amaze: 

And first Thymeetes loudly calls 

To drag the steed within our walls, 

Or by suggestion from the foe, 

Or Troy’s ill fate had willed it so. 

But Capys and the wiser kind 

Surmised the snare that lurked behind: 

To drown it in the whelming tide, 

Or set the firebrand to its side, 

Their sentence is: or else to bore 

Its caverns, and their depths explore. 

In wild confusion sways the crowd : 

Each takes his side and all are loud. 


Girt with a throng of Ilium’s sons, 
Down from the tower Laocoon runs, 
And, “ Wretched countrymen,” he cries, 
“ What monstrous madness blinds your eyes ? 
Think you your enemies removed ? 
Come presents without wrong 
From Danaans? have you thus approved 
Ulysses, known so long? 
Perchance—who knows ?—the bulk we see 
Conceals a Grecian enemy, 
Or ’tis a pile to o’erlook the town, 
And pour from high invaders down, 
Or fraud lurks somewhere to destroy : 
Mistrust, mistrust it, men of Troy ! 
Whate’er it be, a Greek I fear, 
Though presents in his hand he bear.” 
He spoke, and with his arm’s full force 
Straight at the belly of the horse 
Ilis mighty spear he cast; 


BOOK II. 51 


Quivering it stood: the sharp rebound 

Shook the huge monster: anda sound 
Through all its caverns passed. 

And then, had fate our weal designed 

Nor given us a perverted mind, 

Then had he moved us to deface 

The Greeks’ accursed lurking-place, 

And Troy had been abiding still, 

And Priam’s tower yet crowned the hill. 

Now Dardan swains before the king 

With clamorous demonstration bring, 

His hands fast bound, a youth unknown, 

Across their casual pathway thrown 

By cunning purpose of his own, 

If so his simulated speech 

For Greece the walls of Troy might breach, 

Nerved by strong courage to defy 

The worst, and gain his end or die. 

The curious Trojans round him flock, 

With rival zeal a foe to mock. 

Now listen while my tongue declares 

The tale you ask of Danaad snares, 

And gather from a single charge 

Their catalogue of crimes at large. 

There as he stands, confused, unarmed, 

Like helpless innocence alarmed, 

His wistful eyes on all sides throws, 

And sees that all around are foes. 

«“ What land,” he cries, “ what sea is left, 

To hold a wretch of country reft, 

Driven out from Greece while savage Troy 

Demands my blood with clamorous joy ?” 

That anguish put our rage to flight, 

And stayed each hand in act to smite: 

We bid him name and race declare, 

And say why Troy her prize should spare. 


Or 


9 THE ANEID. 


Then by degrees he laid aside 
His fear, and presently replied : 


“Truth, gracious king, is all I speak, 

And first I own my nation Greek : 

No; Sinon may be Fortune’s slave ; 

She shall not make him liar or knave. 

If haply to your ears e’er came 

Belidan Palamedes’ name, 

Borne by the tearful voice of Fame, 
Whom erst, by false impeachment sped, 
Maligned because for peace he pled, 
Greece gave to death, now mourns him dead,— 
His kinsman I, while yet a boy, 

Sent by a needy sire to Troy. 

While he yet stood in kingly state, 

’Mid brother kings in council great, 
I too had power: but when he died, 

By false Ulysses’ spite belied 

(The tale is known), from that proud height 
I sank to wretchedness and night, 

And brooded in my dolorous gloom 

On that my guiltess kinsman’s doom 

Not all in silence; no, I swore, 

Should Fortune bring me home once more, 
My vengeance should redress his fate, 

And speech engendered cankerous hate. 
Thence dates my fall: Ulysses thence 

Still scared me with some fresh pretense, 
With chance-dropt words the people fired, 
Sought means of hurt, intrigued, conspired. 
Nor did the glow of hatred cool, 
Till, wielding Calchas as his tool— 

sut why a tedious tale repeat, 
To stay you from your morsel sweet ? 

If all are equal, Greek and Greek, 


BOOK II. 53 


Enough; your tardy vengeance wreak 
My death will Ithacus delight, 
And Atreus’ sons the boon requite.” 


We press, we yearn the truth to know, 
Nor dream how doubly base our foe: 
He, faltering still and overawed, 
Takes up the unfinished web of fraud. 
“ Oft had we planned to leave your shore, 
Nor tempt the weary conflict more. 
O, had we done it! sea and sky 
Scared us as oft, in act to fly : 
But chiefly when completed stood 
This horse, compact of maple wood, 
Fierce thunders, pealing in our ears, 
Proclaimed the turmoil of the spheres. 
Perplexed, Eurypylus we send 
To question what the fates portend, 
And he from Phoebus’ awful shrine 
Brings back the words of doom divine: 
_£With blood ye pacified the gales, 

Hen with a virgin slain, 
When first ye Danaans spread your sails, 
The shores of Troy to gain: 

With blood ye your return must buy: 
A Greek must at the altar die.’ 
That sentence reached the public ear, 
And bred the dull amaze of fear: 
Through every heart a shudder ran, 
¢ Apollo’s victim—who the man ?’* 
Ulysses, turbulent and loud, 
Drags Calchas forth before the crowd, 
And questions what the immortals mean, 

* T have followed the original, which, rightly under- 


stood, expresses the questionings of the multitude in 
elliptical, perhaps colioquial, language. 


54 THE AENEID. 


Which way these dubious beckonings lear: 
K’en then were some discerned my foe, 
And silent watch the coming blow. 

Ten days the see1, with bated breath, 
testrained the utterance big with death: 
O’erborne at last, the word agreed 

He speaks, and destines me to bleed. 

All gave a sigh, as men set free, 

And hailed the doom, content to see 

The bolt that threatened each alike 

One solitary victim strike. 

The death-day came: the priests prepare 
Salt cakes, and fillets for my hair ; 

I fled, I own it, from the knife, 

I broke my bands and ran for life, 

And in a marish lay that night, 

While they should sail, if sail they might. 
No longer have I hope, ah me! 

My ancient fatherland to see, 

Or look on those my eyes desire, 

My darling sons, my gray-haired sire : 
Perhaps my butchers may requite 

On their dear heads my traitorous flight, 
And make their wretched lives atone 
For this, the single crime I own. 

O, by the Gods, who all things view, 
And know the talse man from the true, 
By sacred Faith, if Faith remain 

With mortal men preserved from stain, 
Show grace to innocence forlorn, 

Show grace to woes unduly borne!” 


Moved by his tears, we let him live, 
And pity crowns the boon we give: 
King Priam bids unloose his cords, 
And soothes the wretch with kindly words: 


BOOK IL, 


Or 
or 


“ Whoe’er you are, henceforth resign 
Ali thought of Greece: be Troy’s and mine : 
Now tell me truth, for what intent 
This fabric of the horse was meant ; 
An offering to your heavenly liege ? 
An engine for assault or siege ?” 

Then, schooled in all Pelasgian shifts, 
His unbound hands to heavens he lifts: 
“ Ye slumberless, inviolate fires, 

And the dread awe your name inspires! 
Ye murderous altars, which I fled! 

Ye fillets that adorned my head! 

Bear witness, and behold me free 

To break my Grecian fealty ; 

To hate the Greeks, and bring to light 
The counsels they would hide in night, 
Unchecked by all that once could bind, 
All claims of country or of kind. 

Thou, Troy, remember ne’er to swerve, 
Preserved thyself, thy faith preserve, 
If true this story I relate, 

If these, my prompt returns, be great. 


The warlike hopes of Greece were stayed, 
E’en from the first, on Pallas’ aid: 
But since Tydides, impious man, 
And foul Ulysses, born to plan, 
Dragged with red hands, the sentry slain, 
Her fateful image from your fane, 
Her chaste locks touched, and stained with 

gore 

The virgin coronal she wore, 
Thenceforth the tide of fortune changed, 
And Greece grew weak, her queen estranged. 
Nor dubious were the signs of ill 
That showed the goddess’ altered will. 


\ 


56 THE ASNEID. 


The image scarce in camp was set, 

Out burst big drops of saltest sweat 

O’er all her limbs: her eyes upraised 
With minatory lightnings blazed ; 

And thrice untouched from earth she sprang 
With quivering spear and buckler’s clang. 
‘ Back o’er the ocean!’ Calchas cries: 
‘We shall not make Troy’s town our prize, 
Unless at Argos’ sacred seat 

Our former omens we repeat, 

And bring once more the grace we brought 
When & .. these shores our navy sought.’ 
So now ior Greece they cross the wave, 
Fresh blessings on their arms to crave, 
Thence to return, so Calchas rules, 
Unlooked for, ere your wonder cools. 
Premonished first, this frame they planned 
In your Palladium’s stead to stand, 

An image for an image given 

To pacify offended Heaven. 

But Calchas bade them rear it high 

With timbers mounting to the sky, 

That none might drag within the gate 
This new Palladium of your state. 

For, said he, if your hands profaned 

The gist for Pallas’ self ordained, 

Dire hayoc—grant, ye powers, that first 
That fate be his !—on Troy should burst: 
But if, in glad procession haled 

By those your hands, your walls it scaled, 
Then Asia should our homes invade, 

And unborn captives mourn the raid.” 


Such tale of pity, aptly feigned, 
Our credence for the perjurer gained, 
And tears, wrung out from fraudful eyes, 


BOOK II. 


Made us, e’en us, a villain’s prize, 
*Gainst whom not valiant Diomede, 
Nor Peleus’ Larisszean seed, 

Nor ten years’ fighting could prevail, 
Nor navies of a thousand sail. 


But ghastlier portents lay behind, 
Our unprophetic souls to bind. 


—Laocoon, named as Neptune’s pr iest, 


Was offering up the victim beast, 


~ When lo! from Tenedos—I quail, 


Fen now, at telling of the tale— 

Two monstrous serpents stem the tide, 
And shoreward through the stillness glide. 
Amid the waves they rear their breasts, 
And toss on high their sanguine crests : 
The hind part coils along the deep, 

And undulates with sinuous sweep. 


‘The lashed spray echoes: now they reach 
The inland belted by the beach, 


And rolling bloodshot eyes of fire, ~ 

Dart their forked tongues, and hiss for ire. 
We fly distraught : unswerving they 

Toward Laocoon hold their way ; 

First round his two young sons they wreathe, 
And grind their limbs with savage teeth : 
Then, as with arms he comes to aid, 

The wretched father they invade 


And twine in giant folds: twice round 


His stalwart waist their spires are wound, 
Twice round his neck, while over all 


Their heads and crests tower high and tall. 


He strains his strength their knots to tear, 
While gore and slime his fillets smear, 
And to the unregardful skies 

Sends up his agonizing cries : 


57 


58 THE AENEID. 


A wounded bull such moaning makes, 
When from his neck the ax he shakes, 
Ill-aimed, and from the altar breaks. 

The twin destroyers take their flight 

To Pallas’ temple on the height ; 

There by the goddess’ feet concealed 
They lie, and nestle “neath her shield. 

At once through Illium’s hapless sons 

A shock of feverous horror runs: 

All in Laocoon’s death-pangs read 

The just requital of his deed, 

Who dared to harm with impious stroke 
Those ribs of consecrated oak. 

«“ The image to its fane!” they cry: 

“ So soothe the offended deity.” 

Each in the labor claims his share: 

The walls are breached, the town laid bare: 
Wheels ’neath its feet are fixed to glide, 
And round its neck stout ropes are tied: 
So climbs our wall that shape of doom, 
With battle quickening in its womb, 
While youths and maidens sing glad songs, 
And joy to touch the harness-thongs. 

It comes, and, glancing terror down, 
Sweeps through the bosom of the town. 
O Illium, city of my love! 

O warlike home of powers above! 

Four times ’twas on the threshold stayed : 
Four times the armor clashed and brayed. 
Yet on we press with passion blind, 

All forethought blotted from our mind, 
Till the dread monster we install 

Within the temple’s tower-built wall. 
E’en then Cassandra’s prescient voice 
Forewarned us of our fatal choice— 

That prescient voice, which Heaven decreed 


BOOK It. 59 


No son of Troy should hear and heed. 
We, careless souls, the city through, 
With festal boughs the fanes bestrew, 
And in such revelry employ 

The last, last day should shine on Troy. 


Meantime Heaven shifts from light to gloom, 
And night ascends from Ocean’s womb, 
Involving in her shadow broad 
Earth, sky, and Myrmidonian fraud : 

And through the city, stretched at will, 
Sleep the tired Trojans, and are still. 


And now from Tenedos set free 
The Greeks are sailing on the sea, 
sound for the shore where erst they lay, 
Beneath the still moon’s friendly ray : 
When in a moment leaps to sight 
On the king’s ship the signal light, 
And Sinon, screened by partial fate, 
Unlocks the pine-wood prison’s gate. 
The horse its charge to air restores, 
And forth the armed invasion pours. 
Thessander, Sthenelus, the first, 
Slide down the rope: Ulysses curst, 
Thoas and Acamas are there, 
And great Pelides’ youthful heir, 
Machaon, Menelaus, last 
Epeus, who the plot forecast. 
They seized the city, buried deep 
In floods of revelry and sleep, 
Cut down the warders of the gates, 
And introduce their banded mates. 


It was the hour when Heaven gives rest 
To weary man, the first and best: 


60 THE NEID. 


Lo, as I slept, in saddest guise, 

The form of Hector seemed to rise, 

Full sorrow gushing from his eyes: 

All torn by dragging at the car, 

And black with gory dust of war, 

As once on earth,—his swoln feet bored, 

And festering from the inserted cord. 

Ah! what a sight was there to view! 

How altered from the man we knew, 

Our Hector, who from day’s long toil 

Comes radiant in Achilles’ spoil, 

Or with that red right hand, which casts 
The fires of Troy on Grecian masts! 
Blood-clotted hung his beard and hair, 

And all those many wounds were there, 
Which on his gracious person fell 

Around the walls he loved so well. 
Methought I first the chief addressed, 

With tears like his, and laboring breast : 

“QO daystar of Dardanian land! 

O faithful heart, unconquered hand ! 

What means this lingering? from what shore 
Comes Hector to his home once mote ? 

Ah! since we saw you, many a woe 

Has brought your friends, your country low ; 
And weary eyes and aching brow 

Are ours that look upon you now! 

What cause has marred that clear calm mien, 
Or why those wounds, unclosed and green ?” 
He answers not, nor recks him aught 

Of those the idle quests I sought ; 

But with a melancholy sigh, 

“ Ah, goddess-born,” he warns me, “ fly! 
Escape these flames: Greece holds the walls; 
Proud Ilium from her summit falls. 

Think not of king’s or country’s claims: 


BOOK II. 


Country and king, alas! are names: 
Could Troy be saved by hands of men, 
This hand had saved her then, e’en then. 
The gods of her domestic shrines 

That country to your care consigns: 
Receive them now, to share your fate: 
Provide them mansions strong and great, 
The city’s walls, which Heaven has willed 
Beyond the seas you yet shall build.” 

He said, and from the temple brings 
Dread Vesta, with her holy things, 

Her awful fillets, and the fire 

Whose sacred embers ne’er expire. 


Meantime throughout the city grow 
The agonies of wildering woe: 
And more and more, though deep in shade 
My father’s palace stood embayed, 
The tumult rises on the ear, 
And clashing armor hurtles fear. 
I start from sleep, the roof ascend, 
And with quick heed each noise attend. 
E’en as, while southern winds conspire, 
On standing harvests falls the fire, 
Or as a mountain torrent spoils 
Field, joyous crop, and oxen’s toils, 


61 


And sweeps whole woods: the swain spellbound 


Hears from a rock the unwonted sound. 
O, then I saw the tale was true: 

The Danaan fraud stood clear to view. 
Thy halls already, late so proud, 
Deiphobus, to fire have bowed : 
Ucalegon has caught the light: 
Sigeum’s waves gleam broad and bright. 
Then come the clamor and the blare, 
And shouts and clarions rend the air: 


69 THE ZENEID. 


I clutch my arms with reeling brain, 
But reason whispers, arms are vain: 
Yet still I burn to raise a power, 
And, rallying, muster at the tower: 
Fury and wrath within me rave, 
And tempt me to a warrior’s grave. 


Lo! Panthus, ’scaped from death by flight 
Priest of Apollo on the height, 
His gods, his grandchild at his side, 
Makes for my door with frantic stride— 
“IIo! Othrys’ son, how goes the fight ? 
What forces muster at the height?” 
I spoke: he heaves a long-drawn breath: 
“°Tis come, our fated day of death. 
We have been Trojans: Troy has been: 
She sat, but sits no more, a queen: 
Stern Jove an Argive rule proclaims: 
Greece holds a city wrapt in flames. 
There in the bosom of the town 
The tall horse rains invasion down, 
And Sinon, with a conqueror’s pride 
Deals fiery havoc far and wide. 
Some keep the gates, as vast a host 
As ever left Mycene’s coast : 
Some block the narrows of the street: 
With weapons threatening all they meet: 
The stark sword stretches o’er the way, 
Quick-glancing, ready drawn to slay, 
While scarce our sentinels resist, 
And battle in the flickering mist.” 
So, stirred by Heaven and Othrys’ son, 
Forth into flames and spears I run, 
Where yells the war-fiend, and the cries 
Of slayerand slain invade the skies. 
Bold Rhipeus links him to my side, 


BOOK II. 63 


And Epytus, in arms long tried: 

And Hypanis and Dymas hail 

And join us in the moonbeam pale, 

With young Corcebus, Mygdon’s child, 

Who came to Troy with yearning wild 
Cassandra’s love to gain, 

And, prompt to yield a kinsman’s aid, 

His troop with Priam’s host arrayed: 

Ah wretch, whom his demented maid 
Had warned, but warned in vain! 


So, when I saw them round me form, 
And knew their blood was pulsing warm, 
I thus began: “ Brave spirits, wrought 
To noblest temper, all for nought, 

If desperate venture ye desire, 

Ye see our lost estate: 
Gone from each fane, each secret shrine, 
Are those who made this realm divine: 
The town ye aid is wrapped in fire: 

Come, rush we on our fate. 
No safety may the vanquished find 
Till hope of safety be resigned.” 
So valor grew to madness. Then, 
Like gaunt wolves rushing from their den, 
Whom lawless hunger’s sullen growl 
Drives forth into the night to prowl, 
The while, with jaws all parched and black, 
Their famished whelps expect them back, 
Amid the volley and the foe, 
With death before our eyes, we go 
On through the town, while darkness spreads 
Its hollow covert o’er our heads. 
What witness could recount aright 
The woes, the carnage of that night, 
Or make his tributary sighs 


64 THE AINEID. 


Keep measure with our agonies ? 

An ancient city topples down 

From broad-based heights of old renown: 
There in the street confusedly strown 
Lie age and helplessness o’erthrown, 
Block up the entering of the doors, 

And cumber Heaven’s own temple-floors. 
Nor only Teucrian lives expire : 
Sometimes the spark of generous fire 
Revives in vanquished hearts again, 
And Danaan victors swell the slain. 

Dire agonies, wild terrors, swarm, 

And Death glares grim in many a form. 


First, with a train of Danaan spears, 
Androgeos in our path appears : 
He deems us comrades of his own, 
And hails us thus with friendly tone: 
“ Bestir you, gallants! why so slack? 
See here, while others spoil and sack 
The burning town, your tardy feet 
But now are coming from the fleet!” 
He said: the vague replies we make 
Reveal at once his dire mistake : 
He sees him fallen among the toils, 
And voice and foot alike recoils. 
As trampling through the thorny brake 
The heedless traveler stirs a snake, 
And in a sudden fear retires 
From that fierce head, those gathering spires, 
Yen so Androgeos at the sight 
Was shrinking back in palsied fright. 
We mass our arms, and close them round: 
Surprised, and ignorant of the ground, 
Their scattered ranks we breathless lay, 
And Fortune crowns our first essay. 


BOOK II. 


lop) 
Or 


Flashed with wild joy, Corcbus cries, 
«“ See Fortune beckoning from the skies! 
When she to safety points the way, 
What can be better than obey ? 
Come, change we bucklers, and advance 
Fach with a Grecian cognizance. 
Who questions, when with foes we deal, 
If craft or courage guides the steel ? 
Themselves shall give us arms to wield.” 
He speaks, and from Androgeos tears 
His plumy helm and figured shield, 
Girds on an Argive sword, and wears. 
And Rhipeus, Dymas, and the rest 
Soon in the new-won spoils are dressed. 
Mixed with the Greeks, we pass unknown, 
*Neath heavenly favors not our own, 
Wage many a combat in the gloom, 
Arid many a Greek send down to doom. 
Some seek the vessels and the shore : 
Some, smit with fear more low, 
Climb the huge horse, and hide once more 
Within the womb they know. 
Alas! a mortal may not lean 
On Heaven, when Heaven averts its mien. 


Ah see! the Priameian fair, 
Cassandra, by her streaming hair, 
Is dragged from Pallas’ shrine, 
Her wild eyes raised to Heaven in vain; 
Her eyes, alas! for cord and chain 
Her tender hands confine. 
Corcebus brooked not such a sight, 
But plunged infuriate in the fight. 
We follow him, as blindly rash, 
And, forming, on the spoilers dash: 
When from the summit of the fane, 


5 


66 THE ANEID. 


Or ere we deem, a murderous rain 

Of Trojan darts our force o’erwhelms, 
Misguided by those Argive helms. 

Then, groaning deep their prey to lose, 
The rallied Danaans round us close 

Fell Ajax and the Atridan pair, 

And all Thessalia’s host were there : 

As when the tempest sounds alarms, 
And winds conflicting rush to arms, 
Notus and Zephyr join the war, 

And Eurus in his orient car: 

The lashed woods howl: hoar Nereus raves, 
And troubles all his realm of waves. 
They too, whom erst in dusk of night 
Our cunning practise turned to flight, 
Come forth: our lying arms they know, 
And in our tones perceive a foe. 

At once they crush us, swarm on swarm: 
And first beneath Peneleos’ arm, 

The warlike goddess’ shrine before, 
Corcebus welters in his gore. 

Then Rhipeus dies: no purer son 

Troy ever bred, more jealous none 

Of sacred right: Heaven’s will be done. 
Dymas and Hypanis are slain, 

By comrades cruelly mista’en ; 

Nor pious deed, nor Phoebus’ wreath, 
Could save thee, Panthus, from thy death. 
Ye embers of expiring Troy, 

Ye funeral flames of all my joy, 

Bear witness, in your dying glow, 

I shunned nor dart nor fronting foe, 
And had it been my fate to bleed 

My hand had earned the doom decreed. 
Thence forced, to other scenes we flee, 
Pelias and Iphitus with me, 


BOOK II. 67 


This laden with his years and slow, 
That halting from Ulysses’ blow: 
For hark! the growing tumult calls 
For rescue to the palace halls. 

O, there a giant battle raged! 
Who saw it sure had thought 
No war in Troy was elsewhere waged, 

No deaths beside were wrought: 
So fierce the fray our eyes that met, 

The Danaans streaming to the roof, 
And every gate by foes beset, 

Screened by a penthouse javelin-proof. 
Close to the walls the ladders cling: 
From step to step the assailants spring, 
E’en by the doors: a shield enfolds 
Their left: their right a corbel holds. 
The Dardans, reckless in despair, 

The turrets and the roofs uptear 

(K’en to such weapons Fortune drives 
Brave patriots, struggling for their lives), 
And hurl the gilded beams below, 

The pride of ages long ago ; 

While others on the threshold stand, 
And guard the entry, sword in hand, 

My heart leaps up, the halls to save, 

And help the vanquished to be brave. 


A secret postern-gate was there, 
Which oped behind a thoroughfare 
Through Priam’s courts: in happier day 
Andromache would pass that way 
Alone, to greet the royal pair, 

And lead with her her youthful heir. 
By this the palace roof I gain, 
Whence our poor Trojans, all in vain, 


68 THE AENEID. 


Were showering down their missile rain. 
With sheer descent, a turret high 

Rose from the roof into the sky, 
Whence curious gazers might look down 
And see the camp, the fleet, the town : 
This, where the flooring timbers join 
The stronger stone, we undermine 

And tumble o’er: it falls along, 

Down crashing on the assailant throng: 
But other Danaans fill their place, 

And darts and stones still rain apace. 


Full in the gate see Pyrrhus blaze, 
A meteor, shooting steely rays: 
So flames a serpent into light, 

On poisonous herbage fed, 

Which late in subterranean night 

Through winter lay as dead : 

Now from its ancient weeds undressed 

Invigorate and young, 

Sunward it rears its glittering breast 

And darts its three-forked tongue. 
There at his side Automedon, 

True liegeman both to sire and son, 
And giant Periphas, and all 
The Seyrian youth assail the wall 

And firebrands roofward dart: 
Himself the first with two-edged ax 
The brazen-plated doors attacks, 

And makes their hinges start: 
Now through the heart of oak he drives 
His weapon, and a loophole rives. 
There stands revealed the house within,} 

Where the long hall retires : 

The stately privacy is seen 

Of Priam and his sires, 


BOOK II, 69 


And on the threshold guards appear 
In warlike pomp of shield and spear. 


But far within the palace swarms 
With tumult and confused alarms: 
The deep courts wail with woman’s cries: 
The clamor strikes the spangled skies. 
Pale matrons run from place to place, 
And clasp the doors in wild embrace. 
Strong as his father, Pyrrhus strains, 
Nor bar nor guard his force sustains: 
The hacked door reels ’neath blow on blow, 
Breaks from its hinges, and lies low. 
Force wins her footing: in they rush, 
The Danaan hordes, the foremost crush 
And deluge with an armed tide 
The spacious level far gnd wide. 

Less fierce when, breaking from its bounds, 
The water surges o’er the mounds, 
Down pours it, tumbling in a heap, 
O’er all the fields with headlong sweep, 
And whirls before it fold and sheep. 
These eyes beheld fell Pyrrhus there 
Intoxicate with gore, 
Beheld the curst Atridan pair 
Within the sacred door, 
Beheld pale Hecuba, and those 
The brides her hundred children chose, 
And dying Priam at the shrine 
Staining the hearth he made divine. 
Those fifty nuptial chambers fair, 
That promised many a princely heir. 
Those pillared doors in pride erect, 
With gold and spoils barbarie decked, 
Lie smoking on the ground: the Greek 
Is potent, where the fires are weak. 


0 THE ASNEID. 


Perhaps you ask of Priam’s fate : 

He, when he sees his town o’erthrown, 
Greeks bursting through his palace gate 

, And thronging chambers once his own, 
His ancient armor, long laid by, 

Around his palsied shoulders throws, 
Girds with a useless sword his thigh, 
And totters forth to meet his foes. 
Within the mansion’s central space, 

All bare and open to the day, 

There stood an altar in its place, 
And, close beside, an aged bay, 
That drooping o’er the altar leaned, 
And with its shade the home-gods screened. 
Here Hecuba and all her train 
Were seeking refuge, but in vain, 
Huddling like doves by storms dismayed, 
And elinging to the gods for aid. 

But soon as Priam caught her sight, 
Thus in his youthful armor dight, 

« What madness,” cries she, “ wretched spouse, 
Has placed that helmet on your brows ? 
Say, whither fare you? times so dire 
Bent knees, not lifted arms require : 
Could Hector now before us stand, 

No help were in my Hector’s hand. 

Take refuge here, and learn at length 
The secret of an old man’s strength : 

One altar shall protect us all: 

Here bide with us, or with us fall.” 

She speaks, and guides his trembling feet 
To join her in the hallowed seat. 


See, fled from murdering Pyrrhus, runs 
Polites, one of Priam’s sons: 
Through foes, through javelins, wounded sore,—= 


BOOK Il, 


Ile circles court and corridor, 

While Pyrrhus follows in his rear 

With outstretched hand and leveled spear 3 

Till just before his parents’ eyes, 

All bathed in blood, he falls and dies. 

With death in view, the unchilded sire 

Checked not the utterance of his ire: 

“ May Heaven, if Heaven be just to heed 

Such horrors, render worthy meed,” 

He cries, “for this atrocious deed, 

Which makes me see my darling die, 

And stains with blood a father’s eye. 

But he to whom you feign you owe 

Your birth, Achilles, ’twas not so 

He dealt with Priam, though his foe: 

He feared the laws of right and truth: 

He heard the suppliant’s prayer with ruth, 

Gave Hector’s body to the tomb, 

And sent me back in safety home.” 

So spoke the sire, and speaking threw 

A feeble dart, no blood that drew: 

The ringing metal turned it back, 

And left it dangling, weak and slack. 

Then Pyrrhus: “Take the news below, 

And to my sire Achilles go: 

Tell him of his degenerate seed, 

And that and this my bloody deed. 

Now die: ” and to the altar-stone 
Along the marble floor 

He dragged the father, sliddering on 
F’en in his child’s own gore: 

His left hand in his hair he wreathed, 
While with the right he plied 

His flashing sword, and hilt-deep sheathed 
Within the old man’s side. 

So Priam’s fortunes closed at last: 


49, THE ANEID. 


So passed he, seeing as he passed 

His Troy in flames, his royal tower 
Laid low in dust by hostile power, 
Who once o’er lands and peoples proud 
Sat, while before him Asia bowed : 
Now on the shore behold him dead, 

A nameless trunk, a trunkless head. 


O then I felt, as ne’er before, 
Chill horror to my bosom’s core. 
I seemed my aged sire to see, 
Beholding Priam, old as he, 
Gasp out his life: before my eyes 
Forlorn Creusa seemed to rise, 
Our palace, sacked and desolate, 
And young Iulus, left to fate. 
Then, looking round, the place I eyed, 
To see who yet were at my side. 
Some by the flames were swallowed : some 
Had leapt to earth: the end was come. 


I stood alone, when lo! I mark 
In Vesta’s temple crouching dark 
The traitress Helen: the broad blaze 
Gives me full light, as round I gaze. 
She, shrinking from the Trojan’s hate 
Made frantic by their city’s fate, 
Nor dreading less the Danaan sword, 
The vengeance of her injured lord,— 
She, Troy’s and Argos’ common fiend, 
Sat cowering, by the altar screened. 
My blood was fired: fierce passion woke 
To quit Troy’s fall by one sure stroke. 
“ What? to Mycene shall she go, 
A conqueress, in a pageant show, 
See home, sire, children, spouse again, 


BOOK Ii. 


With Phrygian menials in her train ? 
Good Priam slaughtered? Troy no more? 
The Dardan plains afloat with gore? 
No; though no glory be to gain 

From vengeance on a woman ta’en, 

Yet he that rids the world of guilt 

May claim the praise of blood well spilt: 
’*T were joy to satiate righteous ire, 

And slake my country’s funeral fire.” 
Thus was I raving, past control, 

In aimless turbulence of soul, 

When sudden dawning on the night 
(Ne’er had I known her face so bright) 
My mother flashed upon my sight, 
Confessed a goddess, with the mien 

And stature that in heaven are seen: 
Reproachfully my hand she pressed, 
And thus from roseate lips addressed : 

«“ My son, what cruel wrongs excite 
Your wrath to such pernicious height ? 
What mean you by this madness? where 
Left you that love to me you bear? 

And will you not at least inquire 

What fate betides your time-worn sire ? 
If your Creusa still survive ? 

If young Ascanius be alive ? 

All these are trembling as for life, 

With Grecian bands around them rife, 
And, but for me, had sunk o’erpowered 
By flame, or by the sword devoured. 
Not the loathed charms of Sparta’s dame, 
Nor Paris, victim of your blame,— 

No, ’tis the Gods, the Gods destroy 

This mighty realm, and pull down Troy. 
Behold! for I will purge the haze 

That darkles round your mortal gaze 


74 THE ASNEID. 


And blunts its keenness—mark me still, 
Nor disobey your mother’s will— 

Here, where you see huge blocks unfixed, 
And dust and smoke in whirlwind mixed, 
Great Neptune with his three-forked mace 
Upheaves the ramparts from their place, 
And rocks the town from cope to base. 
Here Juno at the Scan gates, 

Begirt with steel, impatient waits, 

And clamorous from the navy calls 

Her comrades to the captured walls. 

Look back ; see Pallas o’er the tower 
With cloud and Gorgon redly lower. 

E’en Jove to Greece his strength affords, 
And fights from heaven ’gainst Dardan swords. 
Then fly, and give the struggle o’er ; 
Myself will guard you, till once more 
You stand before your father’s door.” 

She spoke, and vanished from my sight, 
Lost in the darkness of the night. 

Dire presences their forms disclose, 
And powers of terror, Ilium’s foes. 


That vision showed me Neptune’s town 
In blazing ruin sinking down : 
As rustics strive with many a stroke 
To fell some venerable oak, 
It still keeps nodding to its doom, 
Still bows its head, and shakes its plume, 
Till, by degrees o’ercome, one groan 
It heaves, and on the hill les prone. 
Down from my perilous height I glide, 
Safe sheltered by my heavenly guide, 
So thread my way through foes and fire: 
The darts give place, the flames retire. 


BOOK IL. 


But when I gained Ancbises’ door, 
And stood within my home once more, 
My sire, whom I had hoped to bear 
Safe to the hills with chiefest care, 
Refused to lengthen out his span 
And live on earth an exiled man. 

“ You, you,” he cries, “ bestir your flight, 


Whose blood is warm, whose limbs are light: 


Had Heaven not willed my life to cease, 
Heaven would have kept my home in peace. 
Enough, that I have once been saved, 
Survivor of a town enslaved. 

Now leave me: be your farewell said 

To this my corpse, and count me dead. 

My hand shall win me death: the foe 

Such mercy as I need will show, 

Will strip my spoils, and pass for brave. 
He lacks not much that lacks a grave. 
Long have I lived to curse my birth, 

A useless cumberer of the earth, 

E’en from the day when Heaven’s dread sire 
In anger scathed me with his fire.” 


So talked he, obstinately set: 
While we, our eyes with sorrow wet, 
All on our knees, wife, husband, boy, 
Implore—O let him not destroy 
Himself and us, nor lend his weight 
To the incumbent load of fate! 

He hears not, but refuses still, 
Unchanged alike in place and will. 
Desperate, again to arms I fly, 

And make my wretched choice to die: 
For what deliverance now was mine, 
What help in fortune or design ? 

“ What? leave my sire behind and flee? 


75 


"6 THE ASNEID. 


Such words from you? such words to me? 
The watch that guards a parent’s lip, 
Lets it such dire suggestion slip ? 

If Heaven in truth has will to spare 
No relic of a town so fair, 

If you and all wherein you joy 

Must burn to feed the flames of Troy, 
See there, Death waits you at the door: 
See Pyrrhus, steeped in Priam’s gore, 
Repeats his double crime once more : 
The son before his father’s eyes, 

The father at the altar dies. 

O mother! was it then for this 

I passed where fires and javelins hiss 
Safe in thy conduct, but to see 

Foes in my home’s dear sanctuary, 
All murdered, father, wife, and child, 
Each in the other’s blood defiled ? 

My arms! my arms! the fatal day 
Calls, and the vanquished must obey ; 
Return me to the Danaan crew! 

Let me the yielded fight renew ! 

No; one at least these walls contain 
Who will not unavenged be slain.” 


Once more I gird me for the field, 
And to my arm make fast my shield, 
And issue from the door; when see! 
Creusa clings around my knee, 
And offers with a tender grace 
Tulus to his sire’s embrace : 
“Tf but to perish forth you fare, 
Take us with you, your fate to share ; 
3ut if you hope that help may come 
From sword and shield, first guard your home 
Think, think to whom you leave your child, 


BOOK II. nn 


Your sire, and her whom bride you styled.” 
So cried she, and the tearful sound 

Was filling all the chambers round, 
When sudden in the house we saw 

A sight for wonderment and awe: 
Between us while Iulus stands 

*Mid weeping eyes and clasping hands, 
Lo! from the summit of his head 

A lambent flame was seen to spread, 
Sport with his locks in harmless play, 
And grazing round his temples stray. 
We hurrying strive his hair to quench, 
And the blest flame with water drench. 
But sire Anchises to the skies 

In rapture lifts voice, hands, and eyes: 

“ Vouchsafe this once, almighty Jove, 

If prayer thy righteous will can move, 
And if our care have earned us thine, 
Give aid, and ratify this sign.” 

Scarce had the old man said, when hark ! 
It thundered left, and through the dark 
A meteor with a train of light 

Athwart the sky gleamed dazzling bright. 
Right o’er our palace-roof it crossed, 
Then in Idean woods was lost, 

Still glittering on: a fiery trail 

Succeeds, and sulphurous fumes exhale. 
At this my sire his form uprears, 

Salutes the Gods, the star reveres : 

«“ Lead on, blest sign! no more I crave: 
Gods, save my house, my grandchild save! 
You sent this augury of joy ; 

Where you are present, there is Troy. 

I yield, I yield, nor longer shun 

To share the exile of my son.” 


r38 THE ASNEID. 


» He ceased: and near and yet more near 
The loud flame strikes on eye and ear. 
«Come, mount my shoulders, dear my sire: 
Such load my strength shall never tire. 
Now, whether fortune smiles or lowers, 
One risk, one safety shall be ours. 

My son shall journey at my side, 
My wife her steps by mine shall guide, 
At distance safe. What next I say, 
Attend, my servants, and obey. 
Without the city stands a mound 
With Ceres’ ruined temple crowned : 
A cypress spreads its branches near, 
Hoar with hereditary fear. 
Part we our several ways, to meet 
At length beside that hallowed seat. 
You, father, in your arms upbear 
Troy’s household gods with duteous care: 
For me, just ’scaped from battle-fray, 
On holy things a hand to lay 
Were desecration, till I lave 
My body in the running wave.” 
So saying, in a lion’s hide 
I robe my shoulders, mantling wide, 
And stoop beneath the precious load : 
Tulus fastens to my side, 
His steps scarce matching with my stride: 
My wife behind me takes her road. 
We travel darkling in the shade, 
And I, whom through that fearful night 
Nor volleyed javelins had dismayed 
Nor foeman hand to hand in fight, 
Now start at every sound, in dread 
For him I bore and him T led. 


And now the gates I neared at last, 


a 


BOOK II. 


And all the journey seemed o’erpast, 
When trampling feet my ear assail ; 

My father, peering through the gloom, 

Cries “ Haste, my son! O haste! they come: 
I see their shields, their glittering mail.” 

*T was then, alas! some power unkind 

Bereft me of my wildered mind. 

While unfrequented paths I thread, 

And shun the roads that others tread, 

My wife Creusa—did she stray, 

Or halt exhausted by the way? 

I know not—parted from our train, 

Nor ever crossed our sight again. 

Nor e’er my eyes her figure sought, 

Nor e’er towards her turned my thought, 

Till when at Ceres’ hallowed spot 

We mustered, she alone was not, 

And her companions, spouse and son, 

Looked round and saw themselves undone. 

Ah, that sad hour! whom spared I then, 

In my wild grief, of gods and men ? 

What woe, in all the town o’erthrown, 

Thought I more cruel than my own? 

My father and my darling boy, 

And, last not least, the gods of Troy, 

To my retainers I confide 

And in the winding valley hide, 

While to the town once more I go, 

And shining armor round me throw, 

Resolved through Troy to measure back 

From end to end my perilous track. 


First to the city’s shadowed gate 
I turn me, whence we passed so late, 
My footsteps through the darkness trace, 
And cast my eyes from place to place. 


lord 


9 


80 THE AINEID. 


A shuddering on my spirit falls, 
And e’en the silence’ self appals. 
Then to my palace I repair, 
In hope, in hope, to find her there: 
In vain, the foes had forced the door, 
And flooded all the mansions o’er. 
Fanned by the wind, the flame upsoars 
Roof-high ; the hot blast skyward roars. 
Departing thence, I seek the tower, 
The ruined seat of Priam’s power. 
There Phcenix and Ulysses fell 
In the void courts by Juno’s cell 

Were set the spoil to keep ; 
Snatched from the burning shrines away, 
There Ilium’s mighty treasure lay, 
Rich altars, bowls of massy gold, 
And captive raiment, rudely rolled 

In one promiscuous heap ; 
While boys and matrons, wild with fear, 
In long array were standing near. 
With desperate daring I essayed 
To send my voice along the shade, 
Roused the still streets, and called in vain 
Creusa o’er and o’er again. 
Thus while in agony I pressed 
From house to house the endless quest, 
The pale sad specter of my wife 
Confronts me, larger than in life. 
I stood appalled, my hair erect, 
And fear my tongue-tied utterance checked, 
While gently she her speech addressed, 
And set my troubled heart at rest: 
“ Why grieve so madly, husband mine ? 
Nought here has chanced without design : 
Fate and the Sire of all decree 
Creusa shall not cross the sea, 


BOOK II. 


Long years of exile must be yours, 
Vast seas must tire ycur laboring oars 5 
At length Hesperia you shall gain, 
Where through a rich and peopled plain 
Soft Tiber rolls his tide: 
There a new realm, a royal wife, 
Shall build again your shattered life. 
Weep not your dear Creusa’s fate : 
Ne’er through Mycene’s haughty gate 
A captive shall I ride, 
Nor swell some Grecian matron’s train, 
I, born of Dardan princes’ strain, 
To Venus’ seed allied : 
Heaven’s mighty Mother keeps me here: 
Farewell, and hold our offspring dear.” 
Then, while I dewed with tears my cheek, 
And strove a thousand things to speak, 
She melted into night : 
Thrice I essayed her neck to clasp : 


Thrice the vain semblance mocked my grasp, 


As wind or slumber light. 
So now, the long, long night o’erpast, 
I reach my weary friends at last. 
There with amazement I behold 
New-mustering comrades, young and old, 
Sons, mothers, bound from home to flee, 
A melancholy company. 
They meet, prepared to brave the seas 
And sail with me where’er I please. 
Now, rising o’er the heights of Ide, 
Shone the bright star, day’s orient guide ; 
The Danaans swarmed at every door, 
Nor seemed there hope of safety more : 
I yield to fate, take up my sire, 
And to the mountain’s shade retire, 


6 


81 


82 THE ANEID, 


BOOK ITI. 


ARGUMENT.—Aineas proceeds in his relation. He 
gives an account of the fleet with which he sailed, and 
the success of his first voyage to Thrace; thence he 
directs his course to Delos, and asks the oracle what 
place the gods had appointed for his habitation. By a 
mistake of the oracle’s answer, he settles in Crete. His 
household gods give him the true sense of the oracle in 
adream. He follows their advice, and makes the best 
of his way for Italy. He is cast on several shores, and 
meets with very surprising adventures; till, at length, 
he lands on Sicily, where his father Anchises dies. 
This is the place which he was sailing from when the 
tempest rose, and threw him upon the Carthaginian 
coast. 


Wuen harsh Omnipotence had brought 
The power of Asia’s kings to nought, 
When Troy’s Neptunian walls became 
A prostrate mass of smouldering flame, 
To diverse exile we are driven 
In desert lands, by signs from Heaven. 
There in Antandros under Ide 
The wished-for vessels we provide, 
Unknowing whither Fate may lead 
Or what the settlement decreed, 

And call our forces round. The sun 
His summer course had scarce begun, 
When now my sire Anchises gave 
His voice to tempt the fated wave: 
Weeping I quit the port, the shore, 


_The plains where Ilium stood before, 


And homeless launch upon the main, 
Son, friends, and home-gods in my train, 


BOOK III. 


A realm lies near, of ample space 
(Lycurgus ruled it once), called Thrace, 
Allied of old to Ilium’s powers, 

Its home-gods federate with ours 
While Fate was with us. Here I land, 
And here along the winding strand 
Trace out, alas! ’neath fortune’s frown, 
The first beginnings of a town, 

And from myself as founder call 
Aineade the rising wall. 


To my bright mother’s power divine 

And all the tenants of the skies, 
So might they speed my new design, 

I was performing sacrifice, 
And on the shore to heaven’s high king 
A snow-white bull was slaughtering. 
A mound was nigh, where spear-like wood 
Of cornel and of myrtle stood. 
I sought it, and began to spoil 
Of that thick growth the high-heaped soil 
And deck the altars with its green, 
When lo! a ghastly sight was seen. 
‘Soon as a tree from earth I rend, 
Dark-flowing drops of blood descend, 

And stain the ground with gore: 
Fear shakes my frame from head to foot: 
A second sapling I uproot, 
Resolved to pierce the mystery dark ; 
See, trickling from a second bark 

Blood follows as before! 
With many a tumult in my soul, 

I prayed the Dryads of the place, 
And king Gradivus, whose control 

, Is felt through all the fields of Thrace, 

That they would meliorate the sight 


83 


84 THE ASNEID. 


And make this heavy omen light. 
But when a third tall shaft I seize, 
And ’gainst the hillock press my knees— 
Speak shall I, or be mute ?— 
E’en from the bottom of the mound 
Is heard a lamentable sound : 
“ Why thus my frame, dfneas, rend ? 
Respect at length a buried friend, 
Nor those pure hands pollute. 
Trojan, not alien, is the blood 
That oozes from the uptorn wood. 
Fly this fell soil, these greedy shores: 
The voice you hear is Polydore’s. 
From my gored breast a growth of spears 
Its murderous vegetation rears.” 
I heard, fear-stricken and amazed, 
My speech tongue-tied, my hair upraised. 
This Polydore erewhile by stealth 
With store of delegated wealth 
Unhappy Priam in despair 
Sent to the Thracian monarch’s care 
When first Troy felt her prowess fail, 
Encompassed by the leaguering pale. 
Then, when our star its light withdraws, 
False to divine and human laws, 
The traitor joins the conqueror’s cause, 
Lays impious hands on Polydore, 
And grasps by force the golden store. 
Fell lust of gold! abhorred, accurst! 
What will not men to slake such thirst ? 
Soon as my blood regains its heat, 
The direful portent I repeat ; 
To Troy’s chief lords, and first my sire, 
And their collective voice inquire. 
All vote to fly from friendship’s grave, 
Quit the curst soil, and cross the wave. 


BOOK til. 85 


So then to Polydore we pay 

New rites, and heap his mound with clay : 
Raised to the dead, two altars stand 

With cypress wreathed and woolen band: 
Around them Trojan matrons go, 

Their hair unbound in sign of woe: 
Bowls frothing warm with milk we poui 
And cups of sacrificial gore, 

Lay in the tomb the ghost to sleep, 

And thrice invoke it, loud and deep. 


Then, soon as man may trust the seas, 
Invited by the crisp spring breeze, 
My comrades drag along the sand 
The well-dried ships, and crowd the strand. 
So from the harbor forth we sail. 
And land and town in distance fail. 
Encircled by a billowy ring 
A land there lies, the loved resort 
Of Neptune, the A®gzean king, 
And the gray queen of Nereus’ court 
Long time the sport of ev’ry blast 
O’er ocean it was wont to toss, 
Till grateful Phoebus moored it fast 
To Gyaros and high Myconos, 
And bade it lie unmoved, and brave 
The violence of wind and wave. 
That port, all peace, receives our fleet: 
We land, and hail Apollo’s seat. 
King Anius, king and priest in one, 
With bay-crowned tresses hoar, 
Hastes to accost us, and is known 
Anchises’ friend of yore. 
We grasp his friendly hand in proof 
Of welcome, and approach his roof. 
The sacred temple I adored 


8b THE ASNEID. 


Of immemorial stone 
“Q grant us, Thymbra’s gracious lord, 
A mansion of our own! 
Grant us a sure abiding place, 
A habitation and a race! 
Save our new Troy, the relics these 
Of Achillean cruelties ! 
What guide to follow ? what our god ? 
Speak, Father, and inspire our soul.” 
Scarce had I ceasea, a trembling takes 
The sacred courts, the bays divine, 
The mountain to its center shakes, 
The tripod echoes from the shrine : 
Prone as we fall with reverent fear, 
A heavenly utterance strikes our ear: 
“ Stout Dardan hearts, the realm of earth 
Where first your nation sprang to birth, 
That realm shall now receive you back: 
Go, seek your ancient mother’s track. 
There shall Aneas’ house, renewed 
For ages, rule a world subdued.” 
Thus Phoebus: and bewildered joy 
Ran murmuring through the ranks of Troy, 
Each asking, what the city walls 
Whereto the God his wanderers calls. 
At this my sire, revolving o’er 
The bygone memories of yore, 
“ Hear, noble chiefs, and learn,” cries he, 
“ The place of your expectancy. 
In ocean lies Jove’s island, Crete 
Where Ida stands, our nation’s seat. 
A hundred cities crown the isle, 
And the broad fields with plenty smile. 
Thence Teucer, our great sire, of yore 
Took ship for the Rhctean shore, 
If right I mind my tale, 


BOOK It, 


And chose his kingdom: Ilium then 

Not yet had risen: the tribes of men 
Dwelt in the lowly vale. 

Thence Cybele’s majestic dame 

And Corybantian cymbals came, 

Thence Ida’s grove, and mystic awe, 

And lions, trained her car to draw. 

Come then: let Heaven direct our feet: 

Appease the winds, and sail for Crete. 

It lies not far: be Jove at hand, 

The third day’s sun shall see us land.” 

He spoke, and rendering each his due, 

The victims at the altars slew, 

A bull to Neptune, and a bull 

To thee, Apollo bright, 

A lamb to Tempest, black of wool, 

To Western winds a white. 


Idomeneus, we hear, has flown, 
Driven from his home in Cretan land : 
Fame tells us of an empty throne 
And mansions ready to our hand, 
Ortygia left, we skim the deeps 
By Naxos’ Bacchanalian steeps, 
Oledros and Donysa green, 
And Parian cliffs of dazzling sheen, 
Pass Cyclad isles o’er ocean strown, 
And seas with many a land thick sown. 
The rowers sing merrily as we go, 
“For Crete and our forefathers, ho!” 
Fair winds escort us o’er the tide, 
And soon ’neath Cretan coasts we glide. 


The site determined, I lay down 
The groundwork of my infant town, 
Its name Pergamia call, 


87 


88 THE ASNEID. 


And bid the nation, proud to own 

That title, guard their loved hearthstone, 
And raise the fortress wall. 

High on the beach their ships they draw, 
Then take them wives, and till the land, 
The while with equitable hand 

I portion dwelling-place and law, 

When sudden on man’s feeble frame 

From tainted skies a sickness came, 

On trees and crops 1 poisonous breath, 

A year of pestilence and death. 

Their pleasant lives the sufferers yield, 

Or drag their languid limbs with pain: 

The dogstar burns the grassy field, 

And sickening crops withhold the grain. 

Back to Ortygia’s shrine my sire 
O’er ocean bids us go, 

There sue for favor, and inquire 
The limit of our woe, 

What succor weary souls should try, 

And whither, if we must, to fly. 


*T was night: all life in sleep was laid, 
When lo! our household gods, the same 
Whom through the midmost of the flame 

From falling lium I conveyed, 
Appeared before me while I lay, 

In slumber, bright as if in day, 

Where through the inserted window stream 
The glories of the full moonbeam ; 

Then thus their gentle speech addressed, 
And set my troubled heart at rest: 
“The word that Pheebus has to speak, 
Should you his Delian presence seek, 

He of his unsought bounty sends 

E’en by the mouth of us, your friends. 


BOOK III. 89 


We, who have followed yours and you 
Since Ilium was no more, 

We, who have sailed among your crew 
The swelling billows o’er, 

Your seed as demigods will crown, 

And make them an imperial town. 

Build you the walls decreed by fate, 

And let them, like ourselves, be great, 

Nor, till your task be done, forbear 

The toil of flight, how long soe’er. 

Change we our dwelling: not to Crete 

Apollo called your truant feet. 

There is a land, by Greece of old 

Surnamed Hesperia, rich its mold, 

Its children brave and free: 

(Enotrians were its settlers : fame 

Now gives the race its leader’s name, 
And calls it Italy. 

Here Dardanus was born, our king, 

And old Iasius, whence we spring: 
Here our authentic seat. 

Rise, tell your sire without delay 

Our sentence, which let none gainsay : 

Search till you find the Ausonian land, 

And old Cortona: Jove has banned 
Your settlement in Crete.” 

Amazed by wonders heard and seen 
(For ’twas no dream that mocked my eyes: 
No; plain I seemed to recognize 

Their cinctured locks, their well-known mien, 

While at the sight chill clammy sweat 

Burst forth, and all my limbs were wet) 

That instant from my couch I rise, 

With voice and hands implore the skies, 

And offer at the household shrine 

Full cups of unadulterate wine, 


90 “ THE ANEID. 


My worship ended, glad of soul, 

I seek my sire, and tell the whole. 

At once he owns the ambiguous race, 

The rival sires to whom we trace, 

And smiles that ancient lands have wrought 

Such new confusion in his thought: 

Then cries: “ My son, the slave too long 
Of Ilian destiny, 

One voice aforetime sang that song, 
Cassandra, none but she: 

Such fate, she said, I mind it all, 
Was for our race in store, 

And oft on Italy would call, 
Oft on the Hesperian shore. 

But who could think that Trojans born 
Hesperia e’er would reach, 

Or who that heard that maid forlorn 
Gave credence to her speech ? 

Yield we to Pheebus, and pursue, 

Admonished thus, a course more true.” 

He ceased, and our applauding crew 
Obeys him, all and each. 

So now, this second home resigned 

To the scant few we leave behind, 

We set our sails once more, and sweep 

Along the illimitable deep. 


The fleet had passed into the main, 
And land no longer met the eye, 
On every side the watery plain, 
On every side the expanse of sky ; 
When o’er my head a cloud there stood, 
With night and tempest in its womb, 
And all the surface of the flood 
Was ruffled by the incumbent gloom, 
At once the winds huge billows roll; 


BOOK III. 


The gathering waters climb the pole: 
We scatter, tossing o’er the deep: 
The thunder-clouds involve the day ; 
Dark night has snatched the heaven away : 


Through rents of sky the lightnings leap: 


Thus erring from our track designed, 
We grope among the waters blind. 
E’en Palinurus cannot trace 
The boundary-line of day and night, 
Or recollect his course aright 
Amid the undistinguished space. 
Three starless nights, three sunless days 
We welter in the blinding haze. 
The fourth at last the prospect clears, 
And smoke from distant hills appears. 
Drop sails, ply oars! the laboring crew 
Toss wide the foam, and brush the blue. 


Scaped from the fury of the seas, 

We land upon the Strophades 

(Such name in Greece they bear), 
Isles in the vast Ionian main 
Where fell Celzeno and her train 

Of Harpies hold their lair, 
Since, driven from Phineus’ door, they fled 
The tables where of old they fed. 
So foul a plague for human crime 
Ne’er issued from the Stygian slime. 
A maid above, a bird below : 
Noisome and foul the belly’s flow: 
The hands are taloned: Famine bleak 
Sits ever ghastly on the cheek. 
Soon as we gain the port, we see 
Sleek herds of oxen pasturing free, 
And goats, without a swain to guard, 
Dispersed along the grassy sward, 


91 


92 THE ANEID. 


We seize our weapons, lay them dead, 
And call on Jove the spoil to share 

Then on the winding beach we spread 
Our couches, and enjoy the fare; 

When sudden from the mountains swoop, 

Fierce charging down, the Harpy troop, 

Devour, contaminate, befoul, 

With sickening stench and hideous howl. 

A second time we take our seat, 

Deep in a hollowed rock’s retreat, 

Protected by a leafy screen 

Of forestry and quivering green, 

There spread the tables, skin the flesh, 

And light our altar-fires afresh. 

A second time the assailants fly 

From other regions of the sky, 

With crooked claws the banquet waste, 

And poison whatso’er they taste. 

I charge my crews to draw the sword 

And battle with the fiendish horde. 

They act as bidden, and conceal 

Along the grass the glittering steel. 

So when the rush of wings once more 

Is heard along the bending shore, 

Misenus sounds his loud alarms 

From the hill’s top, and calls to arms: 

And on we rush in novel war, 

These foul sea-birds to maim and mar. 

In vain: no weapon’s stroke may cleave 
The texture of their feathery mail: 

They soar into the air, and leave 
On food half-gnawn their loathsome trail: 

All but Celeno: she, curst seer, 

Speaks from the rock these words of fear: 

«“ What! would ye fight, false perjured race ? 
Fight for the beeves your greed has slain, 


BOOK Itt. 93 


And unoffending Harpies chase 
From their hereditary reign ? 
Now listen, and attentive lay 
Deep in your hearts the things I say. 
The fate by Jove to Phebus shown, 
By Phebus’ self to me made known— 
Ay, tremble, for in me ye view 
The Furies’ queen—I tell to you. 
To Italy in haste ye drive, 
With winds at your command: 
Go then, in Italy arrive, 
And draw your ships to land: 
But ere your town with walls ye fence, 
Fierce famine, retribution dread 
For this your murderous violence, 
Shall make you eat your boards for bread.” 
She spoke and vanished ’mid the wood : 
Chill horror froze my comrades’ biood: 
No more of arms : the prayer, the vow 
They fain would make their weapons now, 
Whate’er the monsters, powers divine, 
Or birds ill-omened and malign. 
With outstretched hands my father prays 
The gods above, and offerings pays : 
«“ Heaven, bar these threatenings: Heaven, avert 
Such horror, and protect desert !” 
Then bids the crews their ships unbind 
And stretch the mainsheet to the wind. 


The south wind freshens in the sail: 
We hurry o’er the tide, 
Where’er the helmsman and the gale 
Conspire our course to guide : 
Now rises o’er the foamy flood 
Zacynthos with its crown of wood, 
Dulichium, Same, Neritos, 


94 THE AENEID. 


Whose rocky sides the waves emboss : 
The crags of Ithaca we flee, 
Laertes’ rugged sovereignty, 
Nor in our flight forget to curse 
The land that was Ulysses’ nurse. 
Soon Leucas rears its cloud-capped head, 
And Phoebus, whom the seamen dread. 
Ilither we turn our barks at last, 
And near the city land ; 

The anchors from the prows are cast, 

The keels are on the strand. 


So given a while on land to stay, 
Our lustral rites to Jove we pay, 
And light the votive flames, 
And make the shores of Actium gay 
With flium’s festal games. 
With pride my merry comrades strip 
And oil them for the wrestler’s grip, 
True to the wont of Troy : 
So many Argive towns o’erpast, 
And flight ’mid-circling foes held fast, 
O, but the thought was joy! 
Meantime the sun rolls round the year, 
And winter makes the waters drear. 
The brazen circle of a shield 
Which mighty Abas wont to wield 
I fasten to the temple-gate, 
And thus my deed commemorate, 
“ /Kneas fixes on these doors 
Arms won from Danaan conquerors :” 
Then give my crews the word to quit 
The port, and on their benches sit. 
With emulous zeal they smite the deep, 
And o’er the wavy level sweep. 
Pheacia’s heights from view we hide, 


a 


BOOK III, 


And coast along Epirot lands : 
Then in Chaonia’s harbor ride 
Nigh where Buthrotum’s city stands. 


Arrived, I hear a wondrous thing, 
A Grecian crown on Trojan brows : 
They tell me Helenus is king 
Of Pyrrhus’ realm with Pyrrhus’ spouse, 
And sad Andromache restored 
Once more to a compatriot lord. 
At once I burn with strong desire 
To greet them, and the tale inquire; 
So from the port I take my way, 
And leave my vessels in the bay. 
Andromache, it chanced to fall, 
There in a grove without the wall 
Beside a mimic Simois’ wave 
Was making funeral festival 
At Hector’s counterfeited grave, 
Raised by her hands, a grassy heap, 
With altars twain, whereat to weep. 
When as she saw my near advance 
And marked our Trojan cognizance, 
Awhile distracted and amazed 
She stood, and stiffened as she gazed: 
The life-blood leaves her cheeks: 
She faints : at last from earth upraised, 
In faltering tones she speaks ; 
“ Real, is it real, the face I view, 
A harbinger of tidings true? 
Say, are you living? or if dead, 
Then where is Hector ?” so she said, 
And tears in copious torrents shed, 
And filled the air with cries: 
Thus, as her tide of passion flows, 
Few broken words I interpose ; 


96 THE ALNEID. 


« Ay, I am living, living still 
Through all extremity of ill: 


No dream your sense belies. 
But say, alas! what new estate 
Receives you, fallen from such a mate ? 
What fortune matches the degree 
Of Hector’s own Andromache ? 
Still wear you Pyrrhus’ nuptial yoke ?” 
She dropped her voice, and softly spoke 
With lowly downcast eyes: 
“O happy more than all beside, 
The Priameian maid, 
Who for her dead foe’s pleasure died 
Beneath her city’s shade, 
Not drawn for servitude, nor led 
A captive to a conqueror’s bed, 
While we, our country laid in dust, 
To exile dragged o’er many a wave, 
Have stooped to Pyrrhus’ haughty lust, 
His infant’s mother and his slave ! 
A Spartan marriage tempts the youth : 
He plights Hermione his truth ; 
Cast off, to Helenus I fall, 
So wills our master, thrall to thrall. 
But soon Orestes, mad with crime, 
And wroth to lose his promised bride, 
Smote Pyrrhus in unguarded time, 
And at the altar-fire he died. 
On Helenus, the tyrant slain, 
Devolves a portion of his reign : 
Who calls the realm beneath his hand, 
From Chaon’s name Chaonian land 
And crowns the hill, in sign of power, 
With Pergamus, our Dardan tower. 
But you—what destiny from heaven, 


BOOK III. 


What stress of wind your bark has driven 
Unknowing on our coast ? 
And lives he yet, whom once at Troy— 
Ascanius? dwells there in the boy 
Grief for his mother lost ? 
Feels he the hereditary flame 
His growing spirit fire 
At Hector’s and Aineas’ name, 
His uncle and his sire ?” 
So poured she her impassioned wail, 
Still weeping on without avail, 
When girt with royal retinue, 
King Helenus appears in view, 
Acknowledges his friends of Troy, 
And leads us to his home with joy, 
And as our fainting hearts he cheers, 
With words of welcome mixes tears. 
I see a mimic Trojan state, 
A Pergamus that apes the great, 
A dried-up Xanthus’ channel trace, 
And other Scan gates embrace. 
Nor less my Trojan comrades share 
The monarch’s hospitable care : 
In spacious cloisters entertained 
’Neath the hall’s roof the wine they drained, 
And goblets for libation hold, 
While the rich banquet gleams in gold. 


Two days had passed : the favoring gale 
Invites the fleet and swells the sail: 
Bent on departure, I accost 
With words like these our sacred host: 
“True son of Troy, whose heaven-taught skill 
Perceive the signs of Phoebus’ will, 
The tripods, and the Clarian bays, 
The secret of night’s starry maze, 


7 


98 THE ASNEID, 


And birds, their voices and their ways, 
Speak—for the accordant sense of Heaven 
Fair presage for my course has given; 
Each God has charged me to explore 
In far-off seas Italia’s shore ; 
Celzeno’s harpy voice alone 
Makes prodigies and vengeance known 
And famine’s foulest horror—say, 
What perils first beset my way ? 
What counsel following may I cope 
With toils so great in manful hope ?” 
Then Helenus with slaughtered kine 
Appeases first the powers divine, 

The fillets from his head 
Unbinds, and to Apollo’s fane 
Conducts me, while in every vein 

I feel the presence dread : 
And thus from his prophetic tongue 
The message of the future rung: 
“ Goddess-born !—for broad and clear 
The augury of your proud career, 
So lie the lots in Jove’s dark urn: 
So the dread Three their spindles turn— 
Now listen, while, to give you ease 
In wandering o’er yon stranger seas | 
And help you to the port you seek, 
A fragment of your fate I speak: 
Unknown to Helenus the rest, 
Or Juno locks it in his breast. 
Learn first that Italy, which seems 
So near, you grasp it in your dreams, 
And think to anchor in its bay, 
As though within your ken it lay, 
A pathless path o’er leagues of foam ; 
Divides from this our distant home. 
First in Trinacrian water plied, 


BOOK III. 95 


Your oar must tug against the tide, 
First must your weary galleys keep 
Long vigils on the Ausonian deep, 
Must pass the lurid lake of ghosts 
And skirt Azan Circe’s coasts, 

Ere, free from danger, you may found 
Your city on the destined ground. 
Now hear the tokens I impart, 

And store them up within your heart. 
When, as you roam in anxious mood 
Beside a still sequestered flood, 

’Neath fringing holms before your eye 
A thirty-farrowed sow shall lie, 

Her white length stretching o’er the ground, 
Her young, as white, her teats around : 
That spot shall see the promised town, 
Shall see Troy’s heavy load laid down. 
Nor shudder at the doom of dread 
That tells of eating boards for bread: 
Fate in her time shall find a way, 

And Pheebus waits on souls that pray. 
But, for Italia’s neighbor shore, 

On whose near beach our billows roar, 
Avoid it: there in every place 

Has settled Argos’ hated race. 

Here Locrian tribes, from Naryx come, 
Have found them an Italian home: 
Here o’er Salentum’s conquered plains 
Idomeneus the Bretan reigns: 

While here Petilia’s tiny tower 

Is manned by Philoctetes’ power. 

Nay, when upon Italian land, 
Transported o’er the main, you stand 
And pay your offering on the strand, 
Ere yet you light your altars, spread 
A purple covering o’er your head, 


100 THE AINEID. 


Lest sudden bursting on your sighy 

Some hostile presence mar the rite. 

Thus worship you, and thus your trail, 
And sons unborn the rite retain. 

But when Sicilia’s shore you near, 

And dim Pelorus’ strait grows clear, 

Seek the south coast, though long the run 
To make its round: the northern shun. 
These lands, they say, by rupture strange 
(So much can time’s dark process change) 
Were cleft in sunder long agone, 

When erst the twain had been but one: 
Between them rushed the deep, and rent 
The island from the continent, 

And now with interfusing tides 

*T wixt severed lands and city glides. 
There Seylla guards the right-hand coast : 
The left is fell Charybdis’ post; 

Thrice from the lowest gulf she draws 
The water down her giant jaws, 

Thrice sends it foaming back to day, 

And deluges the heaven with spray. 

But Scyla crouches in the gloom 

Deep in a cavern’s monstrous womb ; 
Thence darts her ravening mouth, and drags 
The helpless vessels on the crags. 

Above she shows a human face 

And breasts resembling maiden grace: 
Below, ’tis all a hideous whale, 

Wollt’s belly linked to fish’s tail. 

Far better past Pachynus’ cape 

Your journey’s tedious circuit shape, 
Than catch one glimpse of Scylla’s cell 
And hear those grisly hell-hounds yell. 
And now, if Helenus speak sooth, 

If Phebus fill his soul with truth, 


BOOK III. 101 


One charge, one sovereign charge I press, 
And stamp it with reiterate stress 

Deep in your memory : first of all 

On Juno, mighty Juno, call : 

Pay vows to Juno: overbear 

Her queenly soul with gift and prayer: 
So wafted o’er Trinacria’s main, 

Italia you at length shall gain. 

There when you land at Cumz’s town, 
Where forests o’er Avernus frown, 
Your eyes shall see the frenzied maid 
Who spells the future in the shade 

Of her deep cavern, and consigns 

To scattered leaves her mystic lines. 
These, when the words of fate are traced, 
She leaves within her cavern placed ; 
Awhile they rest in order ranged, 

The sequence and the place unchanged. 
But should the breeze through chance-oped door 
Whirl them in air ’twixt roof and floor, 
She lets them flutter, nor takes pain 

To set them in their rank again: 

The pilgrims unresolved return, 

And her prophetic threshold spurn. 

So do not you: nor count too dear 

The hours you lavish on the seer, 

But, though your comrades chide your stay 
And breezes whisper “hence away,” 
Approach her humbly, and entreat 
Herself the presage to repeat, 

And open of her own free choice 

The prisoned flow of tongue and voice. 
The martial tribes of Italy, 

The story of your wars to be, 

And how to face, or how to fly 

Each cloud that darkens on your sky, 


109 THE AENEID. 


Hler lips shall tell, and with success 
The remnant of your journey bless. 
Thus far may run these words of mine. 
Goon, and make our Troy divine.” 


So spoke the seer, and as he ends 
Rich presents to my vessel sends: 
Carved ivory and massy gold 
And silver stores he in the hold, 

And caldrons of Dodona’s mould, 
A hauberk twined of golden chain, 
A helm adorned with flowing mane, 
Which Pyrrhus wore: nor lacks my sire 
Due bounty, matching his desire. 
Ife finds us horses, finds us guides, 
And oars and equipage provides. 
Meantime Anchises bids to sail, 
Nor longer cheat the expectant gale: 
And thus Apollo’s seer addressed 
In courteous phrase his ancient guest: 
“Great chief, fair Venus’ honored mate, 
Twice saved by heaven from I[lium’s fate, 
See there Ausonia’s coast at hand! 
Before your fleet it lies. 
Approach, but think not there to rest: 
No, skirt it, and pursue your quest : 
Far distant that Ausonian land 
Which Pheebus signifies : 
Pass on in peace,” he cries, “ pass on, 
Blest in the affection of your son! 
Why task your patience, or delay 
The wind fair blowing from the bay ?” 
Andromache, as loth to part 
Displays the trophies of her art, 
And robes Ascanius in the fold 
Of Phrygian mantle, wrought with gold, 


BOOK III, 103 


Nor stints her hand, but from the store 
Brings broidered vestments, more and more: 
“ Nay, take these too, and let them prove 
A fond memorial of the love 

Of Hector’s sometime wife, 
Dear child of Troy, in whom alone 
Astyanax, my lost, my own, 

Survives in second life! 
Like yours his hands, like yours his brow, 

Like yours his eyes’ bright sheen : 
And oh! he might be growing now 

In years as fresh and green.” 


Hot tear-drops in my eyelids swell, 
As thus I speak my last farewell: 
“ Live and be blest! ’tis sweet to feel 
Fate’s book is closed and under seal. 
For us, alas! that volume stern 
Has many another page to turn. 
Yours is a rest assured : no more 
Of ocean wave to task the oar, 
No far Ausonia to pursue, 
Still flying, flying from the view. 
A mimic Xanthus and a Troy 
Framed by yourselves your thoughts employ, 
Born (grant it, Heaven !) in happier day, 
Nor offering Greece so sure a prey. 
If Tiber’s bank ’tis mine to see 
And build the walls my fates decree, 
Then shall these kindred towns and towers, 
Epirot yours, Hesperian ours, 
Sprung from one father long ago, 
And partners in a common woe, 
Be knit together, heart and soul, 
In one fair Troy, one patriot whole: 
Such be the legacy we leave, 


104 THE ANEID. 


Such bond for sons unborn to weave !” 


Away we speed along the sea 
Beneath Ceraunian steeps, 
Where lies the way to Italy, 
The shortest o’er the deeps. 
The sun comes down, and every height 
Is darkened by advancing night. 
On earth we stretch us by the tide, 
His several oar at each one’s side, 
Then take our cheer: and slumberous dews 
Descend upon our weary crews. 
Night had not climbed heaven’s topmost steep, 
When Palinurus starts from sleep, 
Observes each wind with anxious care, 
And questions all that stirs in air: 
Each star that roams the ethereal plain 
His eye has noted and explored, 
Arcturus, Hyads, and the Wain, 
And bright Orion’s golden sword: 
He sees all calm, without a cloud ; 
Then from the stern he signals loud, 
We shift our camp, attempt the way, 
And to the breeze our vans display. 
Now the red morning from the sky 
Had chased the starry host, 
When from afar dim hills we spy, 
Italia’s lowly coast: 
“Italia!” cries Achates first : 
“Ttalia!” peals the joyous burst 
Of welcome from each crew: 
My sire Anchises wreathes with flowers 
A brimming cup, and calls the powers, 
Full on the stern in view: 
“ Gods of the sea, the land, the air, 
Waft our smooth course with breezes fair.” 


BOOK II. 


The winds blow freshly o’er the sky : 
The port grows wider to the eye, 
And on the cliff in prospect plain 
Is seen Minerva’s hallowed fane. 
My comrades furl their sails, and stand, 
Still rowing onward, for the land. 
The port is hollowed in a bay, 
Concealed by crags that, lashed with spray, 
Confront the billows’ roar: 
On each side runs a rocky line 
With arm extended, and the shrine 
Moves backward from the shore. 
First token of our fate, we see 
Four snow-white horses pasturing free : 
« War is thy portance, stranger soil, 
War,” cries my sire, “ the charger’s toil, 
°Tis war these grazers threat: 
Yet may e’en such one day submit 
To bear the yoke and champ the bit: 
Ay, peace may bless us yet.” 
Then martial Pallas we adore, 
The first who welcomes us to shore, 
And standing at the altars spread 
A Phrygian covering o’er our head: 
And mindful of the great command 
By Helenus expressly given, 
We burn the oblations of our hand 
To Argive Juno, queen of heaven. 


Our vows all paid, again to sea 
We turn the vessels’ head, 
And leave the Grecian colony, 
The land of doubt and dread. 
The bay, Tarentum, next we view, 
Herculean town, if fame say true: 
Against it on the steep is seen 


106 THE ASNEID. 


Lacinium’s venerable queen, 

And lofty Caulon’s towers appear, 
And Seylaceum, sailors’ fear. 

Then distant darkening on the sky 
Trinacrian Attna meets the eye: 

We hear the sea’s stupendous roar 
And broken voices on the shore : 

The waters from the deep upboil, 

And surf and sand the depth turmoil. 
“Charybdis !” cries my sire, “ behold 
The rocks that Helenus foretold ! 
Haste, haste, my friends, together ply 
Your oars, and from destruction fly.” 
So said, so done: each heeds and hears: 
First Palinure to southward steers, 
And southward, southward all the rest 
With sail and oar their flight addressed. 
Now to the sky mounts up the ship, 
Now to the very shades we dip. 
Thrice in the depth we feel the shock 
Of billows thundering on the. rock, 
Thrice see the spray upheaved in mist, 
And dewy stars by foam-drops kissed. 
At last, bereft of wind and sun, 

Upon the Cyclops’ shore we run. 


The port is sheltered from the blast, 
Its compass unconfined and vast: 
But Aftna with her voice of fear 
In weltering chaos thunders near. 
Now pitchy clouds she belches forth 
Of cinders red and vapor swarth, 
And from her caverns lifts on high 
Live balls of flame that lick the sky: 
Now with more dire convulsion flings 
Disploded rocks, her heart’s rent strings, 


BOOK II. 107 


And lava torrents hurls to day, 

A burning gulf of fiery spray. 

Tis said Enceladus’ huge frame, 

Heart-stricken by the avenging flame, 

Is prisoned here, and underneath 

Gasps through each vent his sulphurous breath : 

And still as his tired side shifts round 

Trinacria echoes to the sound 

Through all its length, while clouds of smoke 

The living soul of ether choke. 

All night, by forest branches screened, 

We writhe as ’neath some torturing fiend, 
Nor know the horror’s cause: 

For stars were none, nor welkin bright 

With heavenly fires, but blank black night 
The stormy noon withdraws. 


And now the day-star, tricked anew, 

Had drawn from heaven the veil of dew: 
When from the wood, all ghastly wan, 
A stranger form, resembling man, 
Comes running forth, and takes its way 
With suppliant gesture to the bay. 
We turn, and look on limbs besmeared 
With direst filth, a length of beard, 

A dress with thorns held tight: 
In all beside, a Greek his style, 
Who in his country’s arms erewhile 

Had sailed at Troy to fight. 
Soon as our Dardan arms he saw, 
Brief space he stood in wildering awe 
And checked his speed : then toward the shore 
With cries and weeping onward bore: 
“ By heaven and heaven’s blest powers, I pray, 
And life’s pure breath, this light of day, 
Receive me, Trojans: o’er the seas 


108 THE AANEID. 


Transport me wheresoe’er you please. 
I ask no further. Ay, ’tis true, 
I once was of the Danaan crew, 

And levied war on Troy: 

If all too deep that crime’s red stain, 
Then fling me piecemeal to the main 
And ’mid the waves destroy. 

If death is certain, let me die 

By hands that share humanity.” 

He ended, and before us flung 

About our knees in suppliance clung, 
His name, his race we bid him show, 
And what the story of his woe: 
Anchises’ self his hand extends 

And bids the trembler count us friends. 
Then by degrees he laid aside 

His fear, and presently replied, 


“ From Ithaca, my home, I came, 
And Achemenides my name, 
The comrade of Ulysses’ woes: 
For Troy I left my father’s door, 
Poor Adamastus ; both were poor ; 
Ah! would these fates had been as those! 
Me, in their eager haste to fly 
The scene of hideous butchery, 
My unreflecting countrymen 
Left in the Cyclops’ savage den. 
All foul with gore that banquet-room 
Immense and dreadful in its gloom. 
He, lofty towering, strikes the skies 
(Snatch him, ye Gods, from mortal eyes !) s 
No kindly look e’er crossed his face, 
Ne’er oped his lips in courteous grace: 
The limbs of wretches are his food : 
He champs their flesh, and quaffs their blood. 


BOOK III. 109 


I saw, when his enormous hand 
Plucl ed forth two victims from our band, 
Swur ¢ round, and on the threshold dashed, 
While all the floor with blood was splashed: 
I saw him grind them, bleeding fresh, 
And elose his teeth on quivering flesh : 
Not unrequited : such a wrong 
My wily chieftain brooked not long: 
E’en in that dire extreme of ill 
Ulysses was Ulysses still. 
For when o’ercome with sleep and wine 
Along the cave he lay supine, 
Ejecting from his monstrous maw 
Wine mixed with gore and gobbets raw, 
We pray to Heaven, our parts dispose, 
And in a circle round him close 
With sharpened point that eyeball pierce 
Which ’neath his brow glared lone and fierce, 
Like Argive shield or sun’s broad light, 
And thus our comrades’ death requite. 
But fly, unhappy, fly, and tear 
Your anchors from the shore: 
For vast as Polyphemus there 
Guards, feeds, and milks his fleecy care, 
On the sea’s margin make their home 
And o’er the lofty mountains roam 
A hundred Cyclops more. 
Three moons their circuit nigh have made, 
Since in wild den or woodland shade 
My wretched life I trail, 
See Cyclops stalk from rock to rock, 
And tremble at their footsteps’ shock, 
And at their voices quail. 
Hard cornel fruits that life sustain, 
And grasses gathered from the plain. 
Long looking round, at last I scanned 


110 THE AQNEID. 


Your vessels bearing to the strand. 
Whate’er you proved, I vowed me yours: 
Enough, to ’scape these bloody shores. 
Become yourselves my slayers, and kill 
This destined wretch which way you will.” 


K’en as he spoke, or e’er we deem, 
Down from the lofty rock 
We see the monster Polypheme 
Advancing ’mid his flock, 
In quest the well-known shore to find, 
Huge, awful, hideous, ghastly, blind. 
A pine-tree, plucked from earth, makes strong 
Ilis tread, and guides his steps along. 
Ilis sheep upon their master wait, 
Sole joy, sole solace of his fate. 
Soon as he touched the ocean waves 
And reached the level flood, 
Groaning and gnashing fierce, he laves 
His socket from the blood, 
And through the deepening water strides, 
While scarce the billows bathe his sides. 
With wildered haste we speed our flight, 
Admit the suppliant, as of right, 
And noiseless loose the ropes ; 
Our quick oars sweep the blue profound : 
The giant hears, and towards the sound 
With outstretched hands he gropes.* 
But when he grasps and grasps in vain, 
Still headed by the Ionian main, 
To heaven he lifts a monstrous roar, 
Which sends a shudder through the waves, 
Shakes to its base the Italian shore, 
And echoing runs through A‘tna’s caves. 
*«* And with his outstretched arms around him groped.” 
ADDISON, 


BOOK III. 


From rocks and woods the Cyclop host 


Rush startled forth, and crowd the coast. 


There glaring fierce we see them stand 
In idle rage, a hideous band, 
The sons of Avtna, carrying high 
Their towering summits to the sky: 
So on a height stand clustering trees, 
Tall oaks, or cone-clad cypresses, 
The stately forestry of Jove, 
‘Or Dian’s venerable grove. 
Fierce panic bids us set our sail, 
And stand to catch the first fair gale. 
But stronger e’en than present fear 
The thought of Helenus the seer, 
Who counseled still those seas to fly 
Where Scylia and Charybdis lie : 
That path of double death we shun, 
And think a backward course to run, 
When lo! from out Pelorus’ strait 
The northern breezes blow: 
We pass Pantagia’s rocky gate, 
And Megara, where vessels wait, 
And Thapsus, pillowed low. 
So, measuring back familiar seas, 
Land after land before us shows 
The rescued Achemenides, 
The comrade of Ulysses’ woes. 


Before Sicania’s harbor deep, 

Against Plemyrium’s billowy steep, 
Ortygia’s island lies : 

Alpheus, Elis’ stream, they say, 

Beneath the seas here found his way, 

And now his waters interfuse 

With thine, O fountain Arethuse, 
Beneath Sicilian skies. 


11 


112 THE ANEID. 


We pray to those high powers: and then 
Pass rich Helorus’ stagnant fen. 
Pachynus’ lofty cliffs we graze, 
Projecting o’er the main, 
And Camarina meets our gaze 
Which fate forbad to drain, 
And Gela’s fields, and Gela’s wall, 
And Gela’s stream, that names them all, 
High-towering Acragas succeeds, 
The sire one day of generous steeds 3 
Selinus’ palms I leave behind, 
And Lilybeum’s shallows blind. 
Then Drepanum becomes my host, 
And takes me to his joyless coast. 
All tempest-tost and weary, there 
I lose my stay in every care, 
My sire Anchises! Snatched in vain 
From death, you leave me with my pain, 
Dear father! Not the Trojan seer 
In all that catalogue of fear, 
Not dire Celzeno dared foreshow 
This irremediable blow! 
That was the limit of my woes: 
There all my journeys found their close: 
*T was thence I parted, to be driven 
On this your coast, by will of Heaven 


So king Aineas told his tale 
While all beside were still, 
Rehearsed the fortunes of his sail, 
And fate’s mysterious will : 
Then to its close his legend brought, 
And gladly took the rest he sought. 


BOOK IV, 113 


BOOK IV. 


ARGUMENT.—Dido discovers to her sister her passion 
for Atneas, and her thoughts of marrying him. She 
prepares a hunting match for his entertainment. Juno, 
by Venus’s consent, raises a storm, which separates the 
hunters, and drives A‘neas and Dido into the same 
cave, where the marriage is supposed to be completed. 
Jupiter despatches Mercury to A®neas, to warn him 
from Carthage. Aineas secretly prepares for his voy- 
age. Dido finds out his design, and, to put a stop to it, 
makes use of her own and her sister’s entreaties, and 
discovers all the variety of passions that are incident to 
a negtected lover. When nothing would prevail upon 
him, she contrives her own death, with which this Book 
concludes. 


Nor so the queen: a deep wound drains 
The healthful current of her veins: 
Long since the unsuspected flame 
Has fastened on her fevered frame: 
Much dwells she on the chief divine, 
Much on the glories of his line: 
Each look is pictured on her breast, 
Each word: nor passion lets her rest. 


Soon as Aurora, tricked anew, 
Had drawn from heaven the veil of dew, 
Behold her thus her care impart 
To the fond sister of her heart: 


“ What portents, Anna, sister dear, 
Possess my troubled dreams! 
What strange unwonted guest is here! 

Tow hero-like he seems! 


8 


414 THE ASNEID. 


How bold his port! how fair his face! 
*Tis no vain tale, his heavenly race. 
Fear proves a base-born soul: but he— 
What perils his from war and sea! 
Were not my purpose fixed as fate 
With none in wedlock’s band to mate, 
Since my first passion falsely played 
And left me by grim death betrayed, 
Were bed and bridal aught but pain, 
Perchance I had been weak again. 
Dear Anna! ay, I will confess, 
Since that wild moment of distress 
When poor Sycheus foully bled, 
And brother’s crime a home made red, 
He, he alone has touched my heart, 
And made my faltering purpose start. 
E’en in these ashen embers cold — 
I feel the spark I felt of old. 
But first for me may Earth unseal 
The horrors of her womb, 
Or Jove with awful thunder-peal 
Dismiss me into gloom, 
The gloom of Orcus’ dim twilight, 
Or deeper still, primeval night, 
Ere wound I thee, my woman’s fame, 
Or disallow thy sacred claim. 
My heart to him on whom ’twas set 
Has passed: and let him hold it yet, 
And keep it in his tomb.” 
She said, and speaking bathed her breast 
With tears that would not be repressed. 
Then Anna: “ Sweeter than the day 
To your fond sister’s eye! 
And will you pine your youth away 
In loveless fantasy, 
Nor wedded joy, nor children know, 


a 


BOOK IV. 115 


As constancy were prized below ? 
Grant that no noble suitor yet 
Has made your widowed heart forget, 

In Libya now, as erst at Tyre: 
Tarbas, and the rest who reign 
In haughty Afric, sued in vain: 

But would you quench a welcome fire ? 
Bethink you further, whose the ground 
That hems your infant city round. 

Here lie Geetulian cantons rude, 
A race untamed in battle-feud, 
The Nomad, reinless as his steed, 
And tribes that churlish Syrtes breed : 
There regions parched and summer-dried, 
And Barea’s people prowling wide. 
Why talk of menaces from Tyre, 
The mutterings of fraternal ire ? 
’T was Heaven and Juno’s grace that bore, 
I ween, these Trojans to our shore. 
How glorious then my sister’s towers, 
How vast her empire’s rising powers, 
Linked to so grand a fate! 
With Teucrian armies at its side, 
To what a pinnacle of pride 
Will mount the Punic state! 


-Pray you to Heaven: that favor gained, 


Give hospitality its sweep, 
And hold him still by pleas detained, 
While fierce Orion rules the deep, 
While shattered vessels fear the wind, 
While skies are sullen and unkind.” 
With words like these her sister piled 
Fresh fuel on the flame, 
Bade doubt be hopeful, and beguiled 
The fears of woman’s fame, 


116 THE AENEID. 


First they implore the powers divine, 
And ask for peace from shrine to shrine. 
Choice sheep of two years’ age are slain, 
As ceremonial rules ordain, 

To Ceres, law’s eternal spring, 
To Phebus, and Lyeus king, 
But chief to Juno, who presides 
Supreme o’er bridegrooms and o’er brides. 
In radiant beauty Dido stands, 
A brimming goblet in her hands, 
And pours it, studious of the rite, 
Between the horns of heifer white, 
Or with the Gods in view moves slow 
Where tributary altars glow, 
With rich oblations crowns the feast, 
Then gazes on the slaughtered beast, 
And in the heart’s yet quivering strings 
Spells out the lore of hidden things. 
Alas! but seers are blind to-day : 
Can vows, can sacrifice allay 

A frantic lover’s smart? 
The very marrow of her frame 
Is turning all the while to flame, 

The wound is at her heart. 
Unhappy Dido! all ablaze 
In frenzy through the town she strays: 
E’en as a deer whom from afar 
A swain in desultory war, 

Where Cretan woods are thick, 
‘jas pierced, as ’mid the trees she lies, 
And all unknowing of his prize 

Has left the dart to stick: 
She wanders lawn and forest o’er, 
While the fell shaft still drinks her gore 
Now through the city of her pride 
She walks, dfneas at her side, 


BOOK IV. 117 


Displays the stores of Sidon’s trade, 
And stately homes already made: 
Begins, but stops she knows not why, 
And lets the imperfect utterance die. 
Now, as the sunlight wears away, 
She seeks the feast of yesterday, 
Inquires once more of Troy’s eclipse, 
And hangs once more upon his lips. 
Then, when the guests have gone their ways, 
And the dim moon withdraws her rays, 
And setting stars to slumber call, 
Alone she mourns in that lone hall, 
Clasps the dear couch where late he lay, 
Beholds him, hears him far away ; 
Or keeps Ascanius on her knees, 
And in the son the father sees, 
Might she but steal one peaceful hour 
From love’s ungovernable power. 
No more the growing towers arise, 
No more in martial exercise 
The youth engage, make strong the fort, 
Or shape the basin to a port: 
The works all s!ack and aimless lie, 
Grim bastions, looming from on high, 
And monster cranes that mate the sky. 
Whom when imperial Juno saw 
With passion so possessed 

Too tyrannous for shame to awe, 

She Venus’ ear addressed : 
« A glorious triumph you enjoy: 

Vast spoil must be to share 
*Twixt Venus and her conquering boy: 
Two gods have cunning to destroy 

A single earthly fair. 
Nor has it ’scaped me that you dread 
This town that lifts so proud a head: 


SH 


118 THE ASNEID. 


Let Carthage open as she will 
Her homes, your heart mistrust her still. 
But must suspicion never cease ? 
Or why so fierce a fight ? 
What if. we make a lasting peace, 
And marriage treaties plight ? 
See, you have gained your heart’s desire 
Lost Dido’s blood is turned to fire. 
Then rule we race and race as one, 
With equal plenitude of power : 
Your Phrygian yoke she e’en shall don, 
And bring her Tyrians as her dower.” 


Then Venus—for the drift she saw 

Of her too gracious host, 

Who fain would Latium’s empire draw 
To Libya’s favored coast— 

Thus answered: “ Who would say you no, 

And choose you not for friend but foe, 

Could he but feel, your pleasure done, 

The wished-for consequence were won? 

But ah! I stand in doubt of fate : 
Would Jupiter desire 

To merge in one promiscuous state 
The sons of Troy and Tyre, 

Let nations thus their lives unite, 

And common federation plight ? 

His consort you: you best may move 

His heart with urgency of love. 

Advance : I follow where you lead.” 

Me» Heaven’s empress made return : 

\* t task be mine: now, how to speed 
‘earer purpose, grant your heed, 
And briefly you shall learn. 

‘\heas and the unhappy queen 

‘re bound to hunt in woodland green, 


BOOK IV. 119 — 


Soon as to-morrow’s sun displays 

His orb, and lights the world with rays. 
Then, when the hunter-train beset 

The forest walks with dog and net, 

A furious tempest I will send, , 
And all the heaven with thunder rend. 
The rest shall scatter far and wide, 

Well pleased in thickest night to hide, 
While Dido and the Trojan king 

Chance to the self-same cave shall bring: 
And there myself, your will once known, 
Will make her his, and his alone. 

Thus shall they wed.” Love’s queen assents: 
Smiles at the fraud, but not prevents. 


The morn meantime from ocean rose : 
Forth from the gates with daybreak goes 
The silvan regiment : 
Thin nets are there, and spears of steel, 
And there Massylian riders wheel, 
And dogs of keenest scent. 
Before the chamber of her state 
Long time the Punic nobles wait 
The appearing of the queen: 
With gold and purple housings fit 
Stands her proud steed, and champs the bit 
His foaming jaws between. 
At length with long attendant train 
She comes: her scarf of Tyrian grain, 
With broidered border decked: 
Of gold her quiver: knots of gold 
Confine her hair: her vesture’s fold 
By golden clasps is checked. 
The Trojans and Iulus gay 
In glad procession take their way. 
neas, comeliest of the throng, 


4 
' 


 .- 
120 THE ANEID. 


Joins their proud ranks, and steps along. 

As when from Lycia’s wintry airs 

To Delos’s isle Apollo fares ; 

There Agathyrsian, Dryop, Crete, 

In dances round his altar meet: 

He on the heights of Cynthus moves, 
And binds his hair’s loose flow 

With cincture of the leaf he loves: 
Behind him sounds his bow: 

So firm A£fneas’ graceful tread, 

So bright the glories round his head. 


Now to the mountain-slopes they come, 
And tangled woods, the silvan’s home: 
See ! startled from the craggy brow, 
Wild goats run hurrying down below : 
There, yet more timid, bands of deer 
Scour the wild plains in full career, 

And turn their backs on wood and height, 
While dust-clouds gather o’er their flight. 
But young Ascanius on his steed 
With boyish ardor glows, 
And now in ecstasy of speed 
He passes these, now those: 
For him too peaceful and too tame 
The pleasure of the hunted game: 
He longs to see the foaming boar, 
Or hear the tawny lion’s roar. 


Meantime, loud thunder-peals resound, 
And hail and rain the sky confound : 
And Tyrian chiefs and sons of Troy, 7 
And Venus’ care, the princely boy, 
Seek each his shelter, winged with dread, 
While torrents from the hills run red. - 
Driven haply to the same retreat, 


) BOOK IV. ~ 121 


The Darden chief and Dido meet. 

Then Earth, the venerable dame, 
And Juno give the sign. 

Heaven lightens with attesting flame, 
And bids its torches shine, 

And from the summit of the peak 

The nymphs shrill out the nuptial shriek. 


That day she first began to die: 
That day first taught her to defy 
The public tongue, the public eye. 
No secret love is Dido’s aim: 
She calls it marriage now ; such name 
She chooses to conceal her shame. 


Now through the towns of Libya’s sons 
Her progress Fame begins, 
Fame than who never plague that runs | 
Its way more swiftly wins: ~~ 
Her very motion lends her power : 
She flies and waxes every hour. 
At first she shrinks, and cowers for dread: 
Ere long she soars on high: 
Upon the ground she plants her tread, 
Her forehead in the sky. 
Wroth with Olympus, parent Earth 
Brought forth the monster to the light, 
Last daughter of the giant birth, 
With feet and rapid wings for flight. 
Huge, terrible, gigantic Fame! 
For every plume that clothes her frame 
An eye beneath the feather peeps, 
A tongue rings loud, an ear upleaps. 
Hurtling ’twixt earth and heaven she flies 
By night, nor bows to sleep her eyes : 
Perched on a roof or tower by day, 
She fills great cities with dismay ; 


122 THE ANEID. 


Ilow oft soe’er the truth she tell, 

She loves a falsehood all too well. 
Such now from town to town she flew 
With rumors mixed of false and true: 
Tells of Afneas come to land, 

Whom Dido graces with her hand: 
Now, lost to shame, the enamored pair 
The winter in soft dalliance wear, 
Nor turn their passion-blinded eyes 
On kingdoms rising or to rise. 

Such viperous seed, where’er she goes, 
On tongue and lip the Goddess sows: 
Then seeks Iarbas, stirs his ire, 

And fans resentment into fire. 


He, born a son of Ammon’s race 

From Garamantian Nymph’s embrace, 

ITad raised within his wide domains 

To parent Jove a hundred fanes : 

There hallowed to his mighty sire 

For ever lives the vigil fire ; 

Fresh victim-blood makes rich the ground, 

And with gay wreaths the doors are crowned. 

And he, ’tis said, with fierce disdain, 

The rumor maddening in his brain, 

’Mid altars charged with princely gifts 

To Jove in prayer his hands uplifts: 

“Great Sire, to whom beneath my reign 

The Moors reclined on purple grain 
Lenan offerings pour, 

Behold’st thou this ? or when the spheres 

Thou shak’st, are ours but empty fears? 

Do lightnings cleave the skies in vain, 
And thunders idly roar? 

A dame, who, on my frontier thrown, 

Bought leave to build a puny town, 


BOOK IV. 123 


To whom ourselves, as lords, allow 

A strip of barren coast to plow, 

Has spurned our prffered hand, and ta’en 
Mneas o’er her reo__° to reign. 

And now this Par 3, with his band 

Of gallants, }ice tsimself, unmanned, 

His essenced hair in Lydian wise 

With turban bound, enjoys the prize: 

We kneel in temples known as thine, 

And nurse a fame we dream divine.” 


Thus at the altar as he prayed 
The Father heard his prayer, 
And, turning, Carthage town surveyed, 
And that besotted pair : 
Then summons Mercury to fulfil 
The charge of his almighty will: 
“Go forth, my son, command the gales, 
And spread for flight thy feathery sails; 
Haste to the Dardan chief who waits 
In Carthage, heedless of the fates 
That grant him other crowns, and bear 
My mandate through the bounding air. 
No recreant his fair mother swore 
Our eyes should see in him she bore 
Twice from the grasp of doom: 
No; but a chief of force to sway 
Italia, charged with battle-fray, 
With empire in its womb, 
The pride of Teucer’s blood maintain, 
And bow all nations to his reign. 
If zeal no more his soul inflame 
To labor for his own fair fame, 
Yet can the sire behold his child 
Of Rome’s imperial hills beguiled ? 
What prospect lures him, day by day, 


we 


194 THE AQNEID. 


Thus ’mida hostile race to stay, 
Blind to the hopes by fate decreed, 
Lavinium’s realm, Ausonia’s seed ? 
No, let him sail : that word in one 
Says all: be thus our errand done.” 


The God his father’s bidding plies : 
And first around his feet he ties 
His golden wings, that take the breeze 
And waft him high o’er earth or seas : 
Then grasps his rod that calls to light 
Pale ghosts, or plunges them in night, 
Induces sleep or bids it fly, 
And opes again the dead man’s eye. 
That rod in hand, he drives the gales, 
Or cleaves his way through misty veils. 
Now the tall peak and sides he spies 
Of Atlas, who supports the skies— 
Of Atlas, o’er whose pine-crowned head 
An awful haze of clouds is spread, 
While wintry blast and driving sleet 
For ever on his temples beat : 
The snowdrift robes his shoulders bleak : 
The torrent courses down his cheek, 
And points, as winds its waters warp, 
His beard with ice-flakes, keen and sharp. 
Poised on his wings, here Hermes stood ; 
Then stooped him headlong to the flood, 
F’en as a bird that skims the tide, 
Low coasts and fishy rocks beside. 
So ’twixt the earth and heaven he sails, 
So parts the sand-beach from the gales, 
As from his mother’s sire he fares, 
Cyllene’s God, through Libyan airs. 


Soon as his feet, as winged for flight, 


BOOK IV. 125 


On Carthaginian ground alight, 

He sees Aneas full in view 

Planning fresh towers and dwellings new. 
His sword-hilt gleamed with jasper-stone: 
A scarf was o’er his shoulders thrown 

Of Tyrian purple: Dido’s loom 

Had streaked with gold its glowing bloom. 
The God begins :—“ And here you stay, 
Content the obsequious lord to play, 

And beautify your lady’s town, 
Indifferent to your own renown! 

He, he, the Sire, enthroned on high, 
Whose nod strikes awe through earth and sky, 
He sends me down, and bids me bear 

His mandate through the bounding air. 
What make you here ? what cherished scheme 
Tempts you in Libyan land to dream ? 

If zeal no more your soul inflame 

To labor for your own fair fame, 

Let young Ascanius claim your care: 
Regard the promise of your heir, 

To whom, by warranty of fate, 

The Italian crown, the Roman state, 

Of right are owing.” Hermes said, 

And e’en in speaking passed and fled: 
One moment beamed on mortal eyes, 
Then mingled with the ambient skies. 


Afneas heard, aghast, amazed, 
His speech tongue-tied, his hair upraised. 
Appalled by Heaven’s austere command, 
He yearns to leave the dear, ‘dear land. 
But how to fly ? or how accost 
The queen, by eddying passion tost ? 
How charm the ravings of distress ? 
What choice to make, when hundreds press ? 


126 THE AENEID. 


So by connicting cares distraught, 

This way and that he whirls his thought, 
Till in the tumult of his breast, 

One council dominates the rest. 

Sergestus and Serestus tried 

Ile calls with Mnestheus to his side: 
Bids them unmarked their barks equip, 
And muster all the crews to ship, 

Armed as for fight, yet veil from view 
The spring that moves designs so new: 
Himself, as chance may serve, the while, 
Since Dido, innocent of guile, 

Still dreams her happy dream, nor thinks 
That aught can break those golden links, 
Will watch the hour, and strive to soothe 
When time is ripe and access smooth. 
Well pleased, they give their eager heed, 
And act his will with duteous speed. 


But Dido soon—can aught beguile 
Love’s watchful eye ?—perceived his wile: 
She feels each stirring of the air, 
And e’en in safety dreads a snare. 
Once more fell Fame reports the news 
Of barks equipped and mustering crews. 
She raves in impotence of soul, 
Storms through the town, and spurns control : 
So when the clanging shrine is stirred, 
And Bacchus! Baechus! is the word, 
The Thyiad starts from sleep, and flies 
Where through the night Cithzron cries, 
Soon on Afneas, unaddressed, 
She pours the frenzy of her breast: 
“What? would the wretch his crime conceal, 
And, like a thief, from Carthage steal ? 
Nor present love, nor hand once plight, 


BOOK IV. 197 


Nor dying Dido stays your flight ? 

Nay, you vould sail *neath winter’s sky, 
And through the rush of tempests fly, 
Ah cruel! Sure, if lands unknown 

Were not to seek, were Troy your own, 
E’en for that Troy, your ancient home, 
You ne’er would cross yon angry foam. 
From me you fly! Ah! let me crave, 

By these poor tears, that hand you gave— 
Since, parting with my woman’s pride, 
My madness leaves me nought beside— 
By that our wedlock, by the rite 

Which, but begun, could yet unite, 

If e’er my kindness held you bound, 

If e’er in me your joy you found, 

Look on this falling house, and still, 

If prayer can touch you, change your will. 
For you I angered Libyan hordes, 

Woke jealous hate in Nomad lords, 

Lost Tyrian hearts: for you, the same, 

I trampled on my own good name, 

That wifely honor, which alone 

Had placed me on a starry throne. 
Think, think to whom you make bequest 
Of dying Dido, gentle guest! 

Since fate but that cold name allows 

To him whom once I called my spouse. 
Why should I live to see my town 

By my fierce brother battered down, 

Or e’en myself a captive led 

To Moor Iarbas’ bridal bed ? 

Ah! had I, ere you chose to rove, 

Ta’en from your arms some pledge of love, 
Some child Atneas to recall 

Your face, and gambol in my hall, 

The sire had cheered me in the son, 


128 THE AENEID. 


Nor had I seemed so all undone.” 


She ended. He by Jove’s behest 
His eyes unblenching held, 
And prisoned deep within his breast 
The grief that upward swelled : 
Then briefly spoke: “ Your favors count, 
I question not the vast amount ; 
While memory lasts and pulses beat, 
The thought of Dido shall be sweet. 
Now hear my plea, fair queen, in brief ; 
I hoped not, trust me, like a thief, 
By stealth to quit your coast : 
I never lit the marriage flame, 
Nor gloried in a husband’s name: 
The covenant to which I came 
Spoke but of guest and host. 
Would Fate indulge me at my will, 
My iot to mould, my cares to still, 
Old Troy should claim my chiefest pains 
To wake to life its dear remains, 
And Priam’s hall and Priam’s tower 
Should nurse the vanquished into power. 
But now Grynean prophecies 
On Latium bid me fix my eyes ; 
For Latium Lycia’s lots declare : 
There is my heart, my home is there. 
If, Tyrian born, you linger here, 
And find a Libyan city dear, 
Why grudge to Troy her Latian home? 
We too have realms beyond the foam. 
My sire, Anchises, oft as night 
Invests the world, and stars are bright, 
Warns me in sleep with wrathful frown, 
And scares me on my couch of down. 
Yet louder pleads the injury done 


BOOK IV. 129 


Kach moment to my darling son, 
Defrauded of Hesperia’s reign, 

And barred from lands the fates ordain. 
Now too the messenger divine— 

I swear it by your life and mine— 
Comes down from Jove himself, to bear 
Heaven’s mandate through the bounding air. 
I saw him pass the walls, and heard 
FH’en with these ears his warning word. 
Then vex no more yourself and me: 
Tis Heaven, not I, that calls to sea.” 


Thus as he spoke, long time askance 
She marked him with quick-darting glance, 
Swept o’er his frame her silent eyes ; 
Then, blazing out in fury, cries: 

«“ No goddess bore you, traitorous man: 
No Dardanus your race began : 

No; ’twas from Caucasus you sprung, 
And tigers nursed you with their young. 
Why longer wear the mask, as though 

I waited for some heavier blow? 

Heaved he one sigh at tears of mine ? 
Moved he those hard impassive eyne ? 
Did one kind drop of pity fall 

At thought of her who gave him all ? 
What first, what last ? Now, now I know 
Queen Juno’s self has turned my foe: 
Not e’en Saturnian Jove is just: 

No faith on earth, in heaven no trust. 

A shipwrecked wanderer up and down, 
I made him share my home, my crown ; 
His shattered fleet, his needy crew 

From fire and famine’s jaws I drew. 

Ab, Furies whirl me! now divine 
Apollo, now the Lycian shrine, 


9 


130 THE ANEID. 


Now Heaven’s own herald comes, to bear 

His grisly mandate through the air ! 

Ay, Gods above ply tasks like these: 

Such cares disturb their life of ease.— 

I loathe your person, scorn your pleas. 

Go, seek your kingdom o’er the foam, 

Hunt with the winds your Latian home. 

Yet, yet I trust, if Heaven do right, 

That fate shall find you ’mid your flight, 

Wrecked on some rock remote from shore, 

And calling Dido o’er and o’er: 

Dido shall fasten on her prey 

In sulphurous fires, though far away : 

And when her life and limbs divide, 

Her ghost shall never quit your side: 

Yes, blood for blood! your cry of woe, 

Base wretch, shall reach me down below.” 

Her speech half done, she breaks away, 

And, sickening, shuns the light of day, 
And tears her from his gaze, 

While he, with thousand things to say, 
Still falters and delays : 

Her servants lift the sinking fair, 

And to her marble chamber bear. 


But good Aneas, though he fain 

Would follow and console her pain 

With many a groan, his mighty breast 
Shaken all o’er with love suppressed, 
Bows ne’ertheless to Heaven’s command, 
And swiftly hies him to the strand. 
Roused by the sight, the Trojan train 
Haul down their navy to the main: 

The smooth keel floats : from neighboring wood 
They bring them oars, unshaped and rude, 
And timber leafy as it grew, 


BOOK IV. 131 


In zeal to fly, the eager crew : 
You see them hurry to the shore, 
And forth from all the city pour : 
E’en as when ants industrious toil 
Some mighty heap of corn to spoil, 
And mindful of the cold to come 
Convey their new-won booty home : 
There moves the column long and black, 
And threads the grass with one thin track: 
Some laboring with their shoulders strong 
Heave huge and heavy grains along : 
Some force the stragglers into file : 
The pathway seethes and glows the while. 
What felt you, Dido, in that hour ? 

What groans escaped you then, 
Beholding from your lofty tower 

The coast alive with men, 
And all the port before your eyes 
One tumult of conflicting cries ? 
Curst Love! what lengths of tyrant scorn 
Wreak’st not on those of woman born ? 
Once more affection’s tear must start, 
Once more must prayers essay their art ; 
Once more that high and haughty soul 
Must suppliant stoop to love’s control, 
Lest aught of aid untried remain, 
And Dido rush on death in vain. 


“See, Anna, how their crews collect 3 
O’er all the shore they crowd: 
The sails are spread ; the stems are decked 
With festal garlands proud. 
Enough ; my heart foresaw this ill, 
And, sister, I shall bear it still. 
Yet once, but once your succor lend : 
"Twas you the wretch would make his friend, 


132 THE AINEID. 


To you his secret thoughts confide: 
You only know his softer side. 

Go now, my sister, suppliant go, 

And thus accost our haughty foe : 

Not I with Greece at Aulis joined 
Tosweep his Trojans from mankind ; 

I sent no fleet to Ilinm’s coast, 

Nor vexed Anchises’ buried ghost ; 
Why should he change his ears to stone, 
And close their portals on my moan ? 
One boon I sue for ; let him bide 

Till fair the breeze and smooth the tide. 
Not now I ask him to restore 

The ancient marriage he forswore, 
Resign his lovely Latian town, 

Or abdicate Italia’s crown. 

My prayer is fora transient grace, 

To give this madness breathing-space, 
Till fortune’s discipline shall school 
My vanquished heart to grieve by rule. 
Vouchsafe this aid, the last I crave, 
And take requital from my grave.” 


So pleads she : and her woful prayers 

Again, again her sister bears : 
He stands immovable by tears, 
Nor tenderest words with pity hears. 
Fate bars the way : a hand above 
His gentle ears makes deaf to love. 
As some strong oak, the mountain’s pride, 
Fierce Alpine blasts on either side 

Are striving to o’erthrow: 
It creaks and strains beneath the shock, 
And from the weather-beaten stock 

Thick leaves the ground bestrow: 
Yet firm it stands; high as its crown 


BOOK IV. 133 


Towers up to heaven, so deep goes down 
Its root to worlds below : 
So in this storm of prayers the chief 
Thrills through and through with manly grief: 
Unchanged his heart’s resolves remain. 
And falling tears are idle rain. 


Then, maddened by her destiny, 

Unhappy Dido prays to die: 
Tis weary to look up and see 

The overarching sky. 
It chanced, to fortify her heart 
And steel her purpose to depart, 
Before the altar as she stands 

She sees a blackness gather o’er 
The chalice mantling in her hands, 

And wine—O horror !—turns to gore. 
Not e’en into her sister’s ear 
She dared to breathe that tale of fear. 
Beside, within her courts a fane 
There stood, of marble’s purest grain, 
Where oft she wont to render vows: 
The chapel of her ancient spouse, 
Wreathed with white wool and sacred boughs ; 
Thence, when the dark was over all, 
There came a sighing and a call, 

As in the dead man’s tone: 

And midnight’s solitary bird, 
Death-boding, from the roof was heard 
To make its long, long moan. 

And prophecies of bygone seers 
Ring terror in her ’wildered ears. 
Aneas with unpitying face 

Still hounds her in a nightly chase; 
And still companionless she seems 
To tread the wilderness of dreams, 


134 THE ASNEID. 


And vainly still her Tyrians seek 
Through desert regions, ah, how bleak ! 
Like frantic Pentheus when he sees 
The dragon-eyed Eumenides, 
And two red suns appear to rise, 
And Thebes looks double to his eyes: 
Or as the Atridan matricide 
Runs frenzied o’er the scene, 
What time with snakes and torches plied 
He flees the murdered queen, 
While at the threshold of the gate 
The sister-fiends expectant wait. 


So when, resolved on death, she pressed 
That thought of frenzy to her breast, 
The time and manner she decides : 
Then in her look the purpose hides, 
And, calling hope into her cheeks, 
Her sorrowing sister thus bespeaks: 
“My Anna, I have found a way 

(Rejoice o’er Dido’s love !) 
My spell upon his sense to lay, 

Or his from mine remove. 
On ocean’s marge, where suns descend, 
A spot there lies, the Ethiops’ end, 
Where Atlas on his shoulders rears 
The starry fabric of the spheres. 
Men show me there, in that far place, 
A priestess of Massylian race, 
Who kept the Hesperian temple’s pale, 
And gave the dragon his regale, 
Guarding the tree’s immortal boughs 
With honey-dew and poppy-drowse. 
Her charms can cure what souls she please, 
Rob other hearts of healthful ease, 
Turn rivers backward to their source, 


BOOK IV. 135 


And make the stars forget their course, 
And call up ghosts from night : 
The ground shall bellow ‘neath your feet: 
The mountain-ash shall quit its seat, 
And travel down the height. 

By heaven I swear, and your dear life, 
| Unwillingly these arts I wield, 
And take, to meet the coming strife, 

Enchantment’s sword and shield. 
You in the inner court prepare 
A lofty pile *neath open air: 
There duly be the armor placed 
Left by the traitor in his haste, 
The doffed apparel of our foe, 
The bridal bed that wrought my woe: 
Whate’er was his is doomed to fire : 
So magic bids, and I desire.” 
She paused : a paleness as of death 
Her ghastly features dyes: 
Yet Anna dreams not that beneath 
These rites a funeral lies: 
The frenzy-pitch of love and pride 
She knows not, dreams not worse may tide 
Than in the hour Sycheeus died : 
So on her bidding hies. 


And now within, beneath the sky, 
The pile was rising, heaped on high 
With oak and pinewood tree : 
The queen enwreathes it round, and weaves 
Long chaplets of funereal leaves: 
There lays, devoted to the fire, 
The sword forgot, the doffed attire, 
And chief, the traitor’s effigy, 
Well knowing what should be. 
The blazing altars stand around: 


136 THE AENEID. 


The priestess, with her hair unbound, 
Three hundred gods proclaims, 
Grim Erebus and Chaos old, 

And Hecat-Dian, power threefold, 
Three faces and three names. 
Around the lustral stream she flings, 

Drawn, so she feigns, from Stygian springs 
And poison-plants by moonlight shorn 
She fetches, not unsought : 
And love’s mysterious token, torn 
From forehead of a foal new-born, 
Ere by the mother caught. 
Before the altars Dido stands 
With ritual cake and stainless hands, 
One foot unshod, unchecked by bands 
Her vesture’s ample flow : 
There calls on Heaven, or ere she die, 
And on the starry host on high 
That fate’s deep counsels know: 
And makes her passionate appeal 
To gods, if gods there be, that feel 
For ill-matched lovers’ woe. 


Tis night: earth’s tired ones taste the balm, 
The precious balm of sleep, 
And in the forest there is calm, 
And on the savage deep: 
The stars are in their middle flight: 
The fields are hushed: each bird or beast 
That dwells beside the silver lake 
Or haunts the tangles of the brake 
In placid slumber lies, released 4 
From trouble by the touch of night: 
All but the hapless queen: to rest 
She yields not, nor with eye or breast 
The gentle night receives: 


BOOK IV. 137 


Her cares redouble blow on blow: 
Love storms, and, tossing to and fro, 
With billowy passion heaves. 
And thus she breathes the thoughts that roll 
Tumultuous through her lonely soul: 
«“ What shall I do? make proof once more 
Of those whose sought my love before, 
In suppliance to the Nomads turned, 
Whose proffered hand so oft I spurned ? 
Or shall [ tread the Trojan deck, 
A menial slave at each one’s beck ? 
As though of gratitude they reck, 
Or think of favors done ! 
Nay, though I wished, what haughty lord 
Would take a humbled queen on board ? 
And know you not, ah wretch forlorn, 
The treachery of the seed forsworn 
Of false Laomedon ? 
Then shall I join the shouting crew 
Alone, or with my Tyrians true 
Attach me to their train, 
And hurry those, whom scarce I tore 
From Sidon’s town, to tempt once more 
The perils of the main ? 
No; die as you deserve, and heal 
This anguish with the sharp sure steel. 
*T was you, my sister, first, who, swayed 
By my weak tears, my peace betrayed 
And gave me to the foe. 
Ah! had I lived estranged from love,’ 
Like some wild ranger of the grove, ) 
Nor tampered with this woe, 
Or kept at least the faith I vowed 
To my Sychzeus’ funeral shroud !” 
Such plainings burst from that lone heart: 
Eneas, ready to depart, 


1388 THE ASNEID. 


Slept, in his vessel laid, 
When Mercury in his dreams was seen 
Returning with the self-same mien, 
And this monition made 
(The voice, the hair, the blooming cheek, 
The graceful limbs the god bespeak) : 
“ What? with such perilous deed in hand, 
Infatuate, can you sleep, 
Nor see what dangers round you stand, 
Nor hear the Zephyrs from the land 
Blow fair upon the deep ? 
She, bent on death, fell crime conceives, 
And with tempestuous passion heaves: 
And fly you not the net she weaves, 
While yet ’tis time for flight ? 
With vessels all the sea will swarm, 
And all the coast with flame be warm, 
And fiercely glare the blazing brand, 
If, lingering on this Punic land, 
You meet the morning light. 
Away to sea! a woman’s will 
Is changeful and uncertain still.” 
He said, and mixed with night. 


The phantom broke Aneas’ sleep: 
From bed he springs with sudden leap, 
And wakes his weary men: 
“Quick, rouse you, gallants! catch the gale: 
Sit to the oar, unfurl the sail! 
A god, commissioned from on high, 
Commands us cut our cords and fly: 
3ehold him yet again ! 
Yes, gracious Power! whate’er thy style, 
We gladly follow and obey : 
O cheer us with propitious smile, 
And send fair stars to guide our way ! Re 


BOOK IV. 139 


He said: his flashing sword outflew, 

And shears the mooring-ropes in two. 

From man to man the flame flies fast : 

They scour, they scud: and now the last. 
Has parted from the shore: 

You cannot see the main for ships: 

With emulous stroke the oar-blade dips, 
And sweeps the water o’er. 


Now, rising from Tithonus’ bed, 
The Dawn on earth her freshness shed: 
The queen from off her turret height 
Perceives the first dim streak of light, 
The fleet careering on its way, 
And void and sailless shore and bay ; 
She smites her breast, all snowy fair, - 
And rends her golden length of hair ; 
“Great Jove! and shall he go?” she cries, 

«“ And leave our realm a wanderer’s mock ? 
Quick, snatch your arms and chase the prize, 
And drag the vessels from the dock! 
Fetch flames, bring darts, ply oars! yet why ? 

What words are these, or where am I? 
Why rave I thus? Those impious deeds— 
Poor Dido! now your torn heart bleeds. 
Too late! it should have bled that day 
When at his feet your scepter lay. 

Lo here, the chief of stainless word, 

Who takes his household gods on board, 
Whose shoulders safe from sword and fire 
Conveyed his venerable sire ! 

O had I rent him limb from limb 

And cast him o’er the waves to swim, 

His friends, his own Ascanius killed, 
And with the child the father filled ! 

Yet danger in the strife had been ; — 


140 THE AtINEID. 


Who prates of danger here ? 
A death-devoted, desperate queen, 
What foe had I to fear ? 
No, I had sown the flame broadcast, 
Had fired the fleet from keel to mast, 
Slain son and sire, stamped out the race, 
And thrown at length with stedfast face 
Myself upon the bier. 
Eye of the world, majestic Sun, 
Who see’st whate’er on earth is done, 
Thou, Juno, too, interpreter 
And witness of the heart’s fond stir, 
And Hecate, tremendous power, 
In cross-ways howled at midnight hour, 
Avenging fiends, and gods of death 
Who breathe in dying Dido’s breath, 
Stoop your great powers to ills that plead 
To Heaven, and my petition heed. 
If needs must be that wretch abhorred 
Attain the port and float to land ; 
If such the fate of Heaven’s high lord, 
And so the moveless pillars stand ; 
Scourged by a savage enemy, 
An exile from his son’s embrace, 
So let him sue for aid, and see 
Ilis people slain before his face ; 
Nor, when to humbling peace at length 
He stoops, be his or life or land, 
3ut let him fall in manhood’s strength 
And welter tombless on the sand, 
Such malison to Heaven I pour, 
A last libation with my gore. 
And, Tyrians, you through time to come 
His seed with deathless hatred chase: 
Be that your gift to Dido’s tomb: 
No love, no league ’twixt race and race, 


BOOK IV. 


Rise from my ashes, scourge of crime 
Born to pursue the Dardan horde 
To-day, to-morrow, through all time, 
Oft as our hands can wield the sword : 
_ Fight shore with shore, fight sea with sea, 
Fight all that are or e’er shall be!” 


She ceased, and with her heart debates 
How best to leave the life she hates. 
Then to Sychzeus’ nurse she cried 
(For hers erewhile at Tyre had died), 

“Good nurse, my sister Anna bring: 
O’er face and body bid her fling 

Pure drops from lustral bough : 
So sprinkled come, and at her side 
The victims lead: you too provide 
A fillet for your brow. 
A sacrifice to Stygian Jove 
I here perform, to ease my love, 
And give to flame the fatal bed 
_ Which pillowed once the Trojan’s head.” 
Thus she: the aged dame gives heed, 
And, feebly hurrying, mends her speed. 


Then, maddening over crime, the queen, 


141 


With bloodshot eyes, and sanguine streaks 


Fresh painted on her quivering cheeks, 


And wanning o’er with death foreseen, 
Through inner portals wildly fares, 
Scales the high pile with swift ascent, 
Takes up the Dardan sword and bares, 
Sad gift, for different uses meant. 
She eyed the robes with wistful look, 


And, pausing, thought awhile and wept: 


Then pressed her to the couch, and spoke 
Her last good night or ere she slept. 


142 THE AUNEID. 


“Sweet relics of a time of love, 
When Fate and Heaven were kind, 
Receive my life-bleod, and remove 
These torments of the mind. 
My life is lived, and I have played 
The part that Fortune gave, 
And now I pass, a queenly shade, 
Majestic to the grave. 
A glorious city I have built, 
Have seen my walls ascend, 
Chastised for blood of husband spilt 
A brother, yet no friend. 
Blest lot! yet lacked one blessing more, 
That Troy had never touched my shore.” 
Then, as she kissed the darling bed, 
«To die! and unrevenged !” she said, 
“ Yet let me die: thus, thus I go 
Rejoicing to the shades below. 
Let the false Dardan feel the blaze 
That burns me pouring on his gaze, 
And bear along, to cheer his way, 
The funeral presage of to-day.” 


Thus as she speaks, the attendant train 

Behold her writhing as in pain, 

Her hands with slaughter sprinkled o’er, 

And the fell weapon spouting gore. 

Loud clamors thrill the lofty halls: 

Fame shakes the town, confounds, appals: 

Each house resounds with women’s cries, 

And funeral-wails assault the skies : 

E’en as one day should war o’erthrow 
Proud Carthage or her parent Tyre, 

And fire-flood stream with furious glow 
O’er roof, and battlement, and spire. 

Her sister hears, and, wild with fears, 


BOOK IV. 


143 


All breathless through the throng she flies : 


Rends cheek of rose, beats breast of snows, 
And loud on dying Dido cries: 
«“ Ah, sister! was it this you meant, 
And am I trapped by guile? 
Was this the innocent intent 
Of altar-fire and pile ? 
What first arraign when all is drear ? 
And might not Anna tarry near 
Her Dido’s dying bed ? 
You should have bid me share your doom: 
One pang had borne us to the tomb, 
One hour the twain had sped. 
Nay, with these hands the pile I reared, 
And ealled the gods our father feared, 
That you might lay you down to die, 
And I be absent, heartless I! 
See here, yourself and me foredone,* 
Town, people, princes, all in one! 
Bring water from yon running wave: 
These bleeding wounds I yet can lave, 
And fondly catch whate’er of breath 
Is flickering on the lips of death.” 
She spoke, and speaking mounts the stair, 
Clasps to her breast the expiring fair, 
Enfolds her in her robe, and dries 
The purple that her bosom dyes. 
The dull eyes ope, as drowsed by sleep, 


Then close: the death-wound gurgles deep. 


Thrice on her arm she raised her head, 
Thrice sank exhausted on the bed, 

Stared with blank gaze aloft, around 

For light, and groaned as light she found. 


* <Q sister, sister, thou hast all foredone.”’ 


C. R. KENNEDY. 


144 THE ASNEID. 


Then Juno, pitving her long pain, 

And all that agony of death, 
Sent Iris down to part in twain 

The clinging limbs and struggling breath. 
For since she perished not by fate, 

Nor fell by alien stroke deserved, 
But rushed on death before her date, 

By sudden spasm of frenzy nerved, 
Not yet Proserpina had shared 
The ringlet from her auburn head, 
Whose severance man from earth withdraws, 
And yields him up to Pluto’s laws, 
So down from Heaven fair Ivis flies 

On saffron wings impearled with dews, 
That flash against the sunlit skies 

A thousand variegated hues ; 
Then stands at Dido’s head, and cries: 
“This lock to Dis I bear away 
And free you from your load of clay: 
So shears the lock: the vital heats 
Disperse, and breath in air retreats. 


BOOK V. 145 


BOOK V. 


ARGUMENT.—Aineas, setting sail from Africa, is 
driven by astorm on the coasts of Sicily ; where he is 
hospitably received by his friend Acestes, king of pars 
of the island, and born of Trojan parentage. He apples 
himself to celebrate the memory of his father with 
divine honors ; and accordingly institutes funeral games, 
and appoints prizes for those who should conquer in 
them. While the ceremonies were performing, Juno 
sends Iris to persuade the Trojan women to burn the 
ships ; who, upon her instigation, set fire to them,— 
which burnt four, and would have consumed the rest, 
had not Jupiter, by a miraculous shower, extinguished 
it. Upon this, Auneas, by the advice of one of his gen- 
erals and a vision of his father, builds a city for the 
women, old men, and others who were either unfit for war 
or weary of the voyage, and sails for Italy. Venus pro- 
cures of Neptune a safe voyage for himand all his men, 
excepting only his pilot, Palinurus, who was unfortu- 
nately lost. 


MeantimE Aneas in his bark 
Sails on, his purpose firm and fast, 
And cuts the billows, glooming dark 
Beneath the wintry northern blast: 
Oft to the town he turns his eyes, 
Whence Dido’s fires already rise. 
What cause has lit so fierce a flame 
They know not: but the pangs of shame 
From great love wronged, and what despair 
Can make a baffled woman dare, 
All this they know, and knowing tread 
The paths of presage, vague and dread. 
The ships had passed into the main, 
And land no longer met the eye, 
fe) 


146 THE ANEID. 


On every side the watery plain, 
Qn every side the expanse of sky ; 
When o’er his head a cloud there stood, 
With night and tempest in its womb, 
And all the surface of the flood 
Was ruffled by the incumbent gloom. 
Een Palinure his fear confessed, 
As from the stern he cries, 
« Ah! why do clouds so dark invest 
The compass of the skies, 
Or what has Neptune sire in store?” 
This said, he makes them ply the oar, 
And brace each rope : himself the sail 
Turns edgewise to the driving gale, 
Then thus resumes: “ My gallant lord, 
Though Jove himself should pledge his word, 
I could not look to stem the seas 
To Italy ’neath skies like these. 
The winds are changed, and cross our path: 
The West is darkening into wrath ; 
The dull air lowers in thickest mist; 
Nor can we struggle or resist: 
Come, let us bow to Fortune’s sway, 
And, as she beckons, shape our way. 
Not distant far, I judge, there lies 
Your brother Eryx’ friendly shore, 
Sicania’s port, if right my eyes 
Retrace the stars they watched before.” 
Eneas spoke : “Long since ’tis plain 
The wind gives law, your toil is vain: 
Let go the sheet and turn. 
What country can I hold so sweet, 
So welcome to my weary fleet, 
As where Acestes lives and reigns, 
True Trojan, and my sire’s remains 
Are resting in their urn?” 


BOOK V. 147 


This said, they haste them to the bay: 
The favoring Zephyrs speed their way: 
Swift rides the navy o’er the main, 

And soon the well-known strand they gain. 


From mountain-top Acestes marks 

The coming of the friendly barks, 
And hies him down, in woodland trim, 
Of hunting-spear and bearskin grim, 
Born of a dame of Trojan blood 
From union with Crimisus’ flood. 
His fathers quicken in his veins: 

He hails his kinsman, come once more, 
With rustic splendor entertains, 

And cheers them from his friendly store. 


Soon as the morrow’s dawning light 
Had put the vanquished stars to flight, 
neas thus from grassy mound 
Bespeaks his comrades gathering round: 
“ Brave Dardans, born. of heavenly line 

A year its round of months has made 

Since in the sepulcher we laid 
The relics of my sire divine, 

And mourning altars reared. 
And now that day has come, to me 
For evermore, by Heaven’s decree, 

Embittered and endeared. 

That day, though in Getulian wild 
It found me outcast and exiled, 
Though tossing o’er the AUgzean foam 
Or lurking in an Argive home, 

That sacred day I still would keep, 
And high with gifts the altars heap. 
And now, as time and place conspire, 
E’en at the ashes of my sire, 


148 THE ANEID. 


Not unconducted by the hand 
Of favoring Gods, to-day we stand. 
Then join we gladly in the rite: 
Invoke the winds to speed our flight, 
And pray that he we hold so dear 
May take our offerings year by year, 
Soon as our promised town we raise, 
In temples sacred to his praise., 
Acestes, Troy’s descendant true, 
Bestows to-day on every crew 
Two fair and stately steers: 
Invite we then, the feast to grace, 
The home-gods of our own proud race, 
And those our host reveres. 
Moreover, if the dawn dispense 
Her light to earth nine morrows hence, 
First for the Teucrians be decreed 
A rivalry of naval speed: 
Whose feet are swift to run the course, 
Whose arm is nerved with manly force 
To aim the dart and shaft aright 
Or raw-hide gauntlets wield in fight, 
Come all, bold hearts and eager eyes, 
And he that earns, expect the prize. 
Now hush your tongues from idle speech, 
And take your garlands, all and each.” 


Thus having said, he wreathes his brow 
With his maternal myrtle-bough : 
So too does Helymus, and so 
Acestes with his locks of snow, 
And young Ascanius : and the rest 
Obey the example and behest. 
Then to the tomb he moves along, 
The center of a circling throng: 
There, mindful of the rite divine, 


BOOK V. 149 


Two cups he pours of purest wine, 

Two of new milk, and two of gore 

From victims, on the grassy floor, 

And scatters flowers of dazzling red, 
And thus salutes the mighty dead : 

“ Hail, sacred father! hail again, 

Blest shade, blest ashes, snatched in vain 

From foe, and fire, and sea! 

Not mine with you the Italian shore 
And Latian Tiber to explore, 

Whoe’er that Tiber be! ” 

He ceased, when from the tomb below 

A serpent, clad in glittering scales, 

Seven coils, seven giant volumes trails, 
Winds smoothly round the mound of green, 

And glides the altar-fires between, 

His long back dappled with a glow 
Half green, half golden, like the bow 
That flashes ’gainst the sunlit skies 
A thousand variegated dyes. 

Then, as amazed Aineas stood, 

°T wixt bowl and cup the reptile wound, 
Took tithing of the sacred food, 

And harmless vanished ’neath the mound. 
With zeal renewed, the duteous son 
Applies him to the rite begun, 

Unknowing in his wondering awe 
How best to name the shape he saw, 
The genius of the spot they tread, 
Or menial follower of the dead: 

At once he slays two fatted swine, 
Two youngling sheep, two sable kine, 
Pours out the sacrificial wine, 

And on his mighty father calls, 

The shade whom Pluto disenthralls, 
Each from his store, the Trojans gay 


150 THE ANEID, 


Present their gifts, their victims slay, 
Set on and heat the brimming brass, 
Then stretch them careless on the grass: 
Strow ‘neath the spits a fiery bed, 

And roast the flesh on embers red. 


And now the expected day is here : 

The ninth fair morn in luster clear 

Is driving o’er the sky: 
Acestes’ name, and rumor wide 
ilave summoned all the country-side : 
They crowd the coast through breadth 

length, 

To see the feats of Trojan strength, 

And some their own to try. 
There in the midst the gifts are seen, 

Rich tripods, meet for sacrifice, 
And garlands of luxurious green, 
And sprays of palm, the conqueror’s prize, 
With arms, and purple robes of state, 
And gold and silver, talent-weight : 
And from a mound the trump proclaims 
The festal onset of the games. 


First for the naval prize compete 
Four ships, the flower of all the fleet ; 
With stroke of oarsmen swift and strong 
Brave Mnestheus speeds his Shark along, 
Mnestheus, one day Ausonia’s grace, 
The founder of the Memmian race. 
Chimera moves in Gyas’ charge, 
Huge bulk, a city scarce so large, 
With Dardan rowers in triple bank, 
The tiers ascending rank o’er rank: 
Sergestus, whence the Sergian name, 
Commands the Centaur’s mighty frame 5, 


and 


BOOK V. 151 


While Scylla is Cloanthus’ care, 
Cluentius his Italian heir. 
Far in the sea a rock there lies, 
And fronts the spray-beat coast: 
High o’er its top the billows rise 
And whelm it deep, what time the skies 
In wintry storms are lost : 
When wind and wave are laid to sleep, 
It stands above the moveless deep, 
A level, on whose ample breast 
The basking sea-birds love to rest. 
Thereon an oak with leafy bole 
Aineas plants, to form a goal, 
That helmsman’s eye the spot may mark, 
And prompt his hand to turn the bark. 
Each takes the place his lot assigns: 
Proud on the stern each captain shines 
With gold and purple dye : 
The crews are wreathed with poplar green, 
Their naked shoulders oil makes sheen : 
And now on rowing bench they sit, 
Bend to the oar their arms close knit, 
And straining watch the sign to start; 
While generous trembling thrills each heart 
And thirst for victory. 
Then, at the trumpet’s piercing sound, 
All from their barriers onward bound : 
Upsoars to heaven the oarsman’s shout : 
The upturned billows froth and spout. 
In level lines they plow the deep: 
All ocean yawns, as on they sweep, 
And three-toothed beak and plashing oar 
Tear from its base the marble floor. 
Less swift in heady two-horse race 
The chariots scour the field apace, 
When from their base they dash; 


152 THE ASNEID. 


Less eager o’er the tossing manes 
The charioteer flings out the reins, 
And bends him o’er the lash. 
With plaudits loud and clamorous zeal 
Echoes the woodland round : 
The pent shores roll the thunder-peal, 
The stricken hills rebound. 
’Mid hurry and tumultuous shout 
First Gyas issues from the rout, 
And holds the foremost place: 
Cloanthus next: his oarsmen row 
More featly: but his bark is slow, 
And checks him in the race. 
Behind, at equal distance, strain 
Centaur and Shark the lead to gain; 
And now the Shark darts forth, and now 
The Centaur has advanced her bow : 
And now the twain move side by side, 
Their long keels trailing through the tide. 


At length the rock before them lay : 
The goal was in their reach: 
When Gyas, conqueror of the way, 
His helmsman thus, Mencetes gray, 
Plies with upbraiding speech : 
“ Why to the right so blindly push? 
Here, take a narrower sweep : 
Hug close the shore, nor fear its crush : * 
The cliff’s left hand our oars should brush : 
Let others hold the deep.” 
So Gyas: but Menetes fears 
The hidden rocks, and seaward steers. 
“ What? swerving still?” he shouts once more: 


* Here and in other parts of the paragraph ‘shore ” 
is used, like ‘‘littus ” in the original, not for the coast, 
but for the side of the rock which formed the goal, 


BOOK V. 


“The shore, Mencetes! seek the shore ! ” 
And backward as he turns his eyes, 
V death !—Cloanthus he descries 
Close following, nearer and more near, 
And all but springing on his rear. 
*lwixt Gyas and the rocky shoal 
The rival deftly glides, 
Shoots to the forefront, turns the goal, 
And gains the safer tides. 
Grief flashed to flame in Gyas’ soul : 
Tears from his eyes were seen to roll: 
All reckless of his own true pride 
And his imperiled crew, 
He seized the dilatory guide 
And from the vessel threw: 
Himself assumes the helm, and cheers 
His merry men, and shoreward steers. 
But old Mencetes, when the main 
Gave him at length to light again, 
Landward with feeble motion swims, 
His wet clothes clinging to his limbs, 
Ascends the rock, and sits on high 
There on the summit, safe and dry. 
To see him fall the Trojans laughed: 
They laughed to see him float, 
And laugh, as now the briny draught 
He sputters from his throat. 


Now Mnestheus and Sergestus feel 

A dawning hope, a new-born zeal, 
Chimera to outstrip: 

The choice of way Sergestus gets, 

And toward the rock his helm he sets: 

Not first by all his length of bark, 

First but by part; a part the Shark 
Just covers with her tip. 


153 


154 THE ASNEID. 


But Mnestheus, pacing through and through 

His vessel, cheers the eager crew : 

« Now, now, my men, now ply your oar, 

Who fought at Hector’s side of yore, 

Whom in the day of Troy’s despair 

I chose my destiny to share : 

Call up the valor in your souls 

That made you thread Geetulian shoals, 

Defy the Ionian main, and ’scape 

The waves that buffet Malea’s cape. 

Tis not the palm that Mnestheus seeks: 

No hope of victory fires his cheeks : 

Yet O that thought !—but conquer they 

To whom great Neptune wills the day : 

Not to be last—make that your aim, 

And triumph by averting shame.” 

Onward with vehement zeal they bound : 

Beneath them vanishes the ground : * 
The mailed ship labors with their blows 

Thick pantings all their members shake, 

And parching heats their dry lips bake, 
While sweat in torrents flows. 


Thus as they struggle, fortune’s freak 
Accords them the success they seek : 
For while Sergestus, blindly rash, 
Drives to the rock his vessel’s head, 
And strives the perilous pass to thread, 
On jutting crags behold him dash! 
Loud crash the oars with shivering shock : 
The wedged prow hangs upon the rock. 
With shout and scream up start the crew, 
Condemned to halt where late they flew, 
Ply steel-tipped poles and pointed staves, 
*This is another Virgilian license, the ground 
(‘‘solum™) being put for the water under the ship, — 


BOOK V. 155 


And pick the crushed oars from the waves. 
But joyous Mnestheus, made more keen 
By vantage offering unforeseen, 
* With all his oars in rapid play 
And winds to waft him on his way, 
Darts forth into the shelving tides, 
And o’er the sea’s broad bosom glides. 
So all at once a startled dove, 
Who builds her nest in rocky cove, 
Bursts forth, and in her wild affright 
Loud flaps her fluttering wings for flight : 
Then launched in air, the smooth deep skims, 
Nor stirs a pinionas she swims : 
So Mnestheus: so his vessel flees 
Along the residue of seas: 
The very impulse of its flight 
Conveys it on, how swift, how light! 
And first Sergestus in the rear 
Ile leaves, still struggling to get clear, 
While vainly succor he implores, 
And tries to row with shattered oars, 
Chimera next he puts in chase: 
Iler helmsman lost, she yields the race. 
Cloanthus now alone remains 

Just finishing the course ; 
Whom to o’ertake he toils and strains 

With all ambition’s force. 
The cheers redouble from the shore ; 
Heaven echoes with the wild uproar: 
Those blush to lose a conquering game, 
And fain would peril life for fame: 
These bring success their zeal to fan; 
They can because they think they can. 
And now perchance with vessels paired 
The rivals twain the prize had shared, 
When with his palms to ocean spread 


156 THE A‘NEID. 


Cloanthus breathed a prayer, and said: 

“ Ye Gods who o’er the deep have sway, 
Whose watery realm I plow, 

Before your altar in the bay 

A milk-white bull I stand to slay, 
Amerced in this my vow, 

Cast forth the entrails o’er the brine, 

And pour a sacred stream of wine.” 

He said: there heard him ’neath the sea 

The Nereid train and Panope, 

And with his hand divinely strong 

Portunus pushed the bark along : 

Swifter than wind or shafé it flies 

To land, and in the haven lies. 


Eneas then, assembling all, 
Proclaims aloud by herald’s call 
Cloanthus victor of the day, 

And wreaths his conquering brows with bay: 

Three goodly bulls he bids him choose 

(Such boon is given to all the crews) 

With wine, and to his vessel bear 

A silver talent, for its share. 

The chiefs themselves receive beside 

Rich gifts of more conspicuous pride: 

A gold-wrought scarf of rare device 
Upon the conqueror he bestows, 

Around whose field meandering twice 
A stream of Grecian purple flows: 

Inwoven there the princely boy * 

Along the wooded hills of Troy 

Is following on the flying deer 

With eager foot and lifted spear, 

So keen, his pants are all but heard :— 

Down swoops the thunder-bearing bird, 


* Ganymede. 


BOOK V. 157 


And from the mountain bears away 

In taloned claws the beauteous prey. 

His aged guardians raise on high 

Their hands: the fierce hounds bay the sky. 
But he whose prowess in the race 

Won for his bark the second place, 

To him he gives a shirt of mail, 

A three-piled work of golden scale, 
Which from Demoleos’ breast he tore 
Victorious once on Simois’ shore, 

A garniture of glorious show, 

Nor fitted less to ward a blow. 

Beneath that burden staggering strain 
Two stalwart squires of Mnestheus’ train. 
Wherewith Demoleos erst endued 

Troy’s scattered sons on foot pursued. 
With caldrons twain the third is graced, 
And silver bowls with figures chased. 


The meeds were given; the rivals proud 
Were moving stately through the crowd, 
Kach glorying in his several boon, 

And wreathed with purple-bright festoon, 
When lo! unhonored and forlorn, 

Scarce from the rock with effort torn, 
One tier destroyed, ’mid gibes and jeers 
His wavering bark Sergestus steers. 

E’en as a snake that on the way 

Some wheel has mangled as it lay, 

Or passer-by with stone well aimed 

Has left half-dying, crushed and maimed: 
In slow retreat without avail 

It strives its lengthening coils to trail: 
One half erect the foe defies 

With hissing throat and fiery eyes ; 

One, lame and wounded, backward holds 


158 THE ANEID. 


The surging spires and gathering folds: 
So rows the bark on her slow way, 

Yet sets her sail, and gains the bay. 

Not less her chief receives his due 

For ship brought back and rescued crew, 
A Cretan slave, expert to spin, 

And at her bosom children twin. 


/ 
When ended now the naval race, 
/Eneas seeks a grassy space, 
Which winding hills encompass round, 
Their shaggy tops with forest crowned ; 
There, as the deepening vale descends, 
A rustic theater extends, 
Where, ringed with thousands round, he sate 
On high-heaped throne in rural state. 
Whoe’er in speed of foot would vie 
He here invites, their chance to try 
And earn reward: from diverse parts 
They come, swift limbs and generous hearts, 
Trojan and Sicel interspersed : 
Euryalus and Nisus first: 
That for his beauty and his youth 
Conspicuous ’mid the sons of Troy, 
This for his pure affection’s truth: 
Concentered on the lovely boy. 
Diores next them takes his place, 
A princely branch of Priam’s race: 
Salius and Patron too succeed, 
The one of Acarnanian breed, 
While Tegea gave the other birth, 
And Arcady his parent earth : 
Then Helymus and Panopes, 
Trinacria’s youthful offspring these, 
Trained in the woods to chase the boar, 
And comrades of Acestes hoar ; 


/ 


BOOK V. 159 


With many a candidate besides 

Whom dim-eyed fame in darkness hides. 
Whom, as around his seat they pressed, 
Afneas thus in brief addressed : 

“ Vouchsafe your audience, and receive 

My words with glad regard. 

None of this train the field shall leave 

Unguerdoned by reward : 

Two polished darts of Gnossian craft. 
An ax with silver-studded haft, 

Such boon be each one’s share : 
The three who prove them first in speed 
Shall boast a more conspicuous meed, 

And olive chaplets wear : 

First to the victor of the day 

A horse be given with trappings gay: 
A quiver shall the second grace, 

True Amazon, with shafts from Thrace, 
A belt withal of broad bright gold, 
With jeweled clasp to clench its hold: 
These for the second: on the third 
This Argive helmet be conferred.” 


He said: at once they take their place, 
And at the sign begin the race, 
Pour from their base like rain-cloud dark, 
And strain their eyes the goal to mark. 
First, far before each flying form, 
Comes Nisus rushing like the storm ; 
Then, nearest him where none are near, 
Young Salius strains in full career; 
Then with brief interval of space 
Kuryalus, the third in place ; 
Then Helymus: behind him, lo! 
Diores, touching heel with toe, 

Close hangs upon his rear, 


| 
160 THE AUNEID. 


And, had they run but few roods more, 
Had passed him, shooting on before, 
And made the vantage clear. 


And now the race was all but o’er, 
And panting to the goal they drew, 
When Nisus trips in slippery gore 
Chance-sprinkled on the grassy floor 
From beasts the sacrificers slew ; 
So late the conqueror, blithe and bold, 
He fails to keep his foot’s sure hold, 
And falls in prone confusion flung 
*Mid victim blood and loathly dung, 
F’en then affection claims its part: 
Euryalus is in his heart: 
Uprising from the sodden clay, 
He casts himself in Salius’ way, 
And Salius tripped and sprawling lay. 
Euryalus like lightning flies 
? Mid plaudits and assenting cries, 
And through his friend attains the prize: 
Next Helymus, and next comes in 
Diores, thus the third to win. 
Salius aloud his wrong proclaims 
To all who sit to view the games 
Fills with his shouts the foremost seat, 
Claims back the prize, and brands the cheat. 
But more Euryalus finds grace: 
So well the tears beseem his face, 
And worth appears with brighter shine 
When lodged within a lovely shrine. 
Diores swells the general strain, 
Just ranged within the conquering list; 
An empty preference, all in vain, 
Should Salius have the prize he missed. 
Afneas thus: “ Your rights are yours; 


BOOK V. 161 


None stirs the palm my word assures: 

Let me be suffered to extend 

Compassion to a hapless friend.” 

So speaking, Salius he consoled 

With lion’s hide, its claws of gold. 
Outspoke bold Nisus: “ If defeat 

Such vast requital needs must meet, 

And falls win friends, what boon of grace 
Were large enough for Nisus’ case, 

Whose merit made him first in place ? 
But Fortune, with malicious glee, 

That baffled Salius, baffled me.” 

And saying thus, his face he reared, 

And showed his limbs with ordure smeared. 
The good sire smiled, and bade be brought 
A shield by Didymoan wrought, 

A Danaan spoil, which erst he tore 

From Grecian Neptune’s temple door: 
Then to the gallant youth presents 

The guerdon, and his heart contents. 


The foot-race done, the meeds assigned, 
“ Now for the prompt collected mind, 
Stout heart, and watchful eye: 
Stand forth, your wrists with gantlets bind, 
And lift your arms on high.” 
He said, and for the boxing fray 
Two prizes he proposed : 
A bull for him that wins the day, 
Its horns with gold enclosed: 
A shining helmet and a glaive 
To reassure the beaten brave. 
At once, gigantic, broad, and strong, 
Amid the plaudits of the throng 
Uprises Dares, who alone 
With Paris’ skill dared match his own: 
itp 


162 THE AINEID. 


Nay, at the tomb where Hector lies, 

The champion Butes, vast of size, 

Who plumed him on an athlete’s breed 

From Amycus’ Bebrycian seed, 

Fell, stricken by his conquering hand, 

And gasped expiring on the sand. 

Such Dares in the lists appears, 

His lofty head defiant rears, 

The compass of his shoulder shows, 

His arms by turns before him throws, 

And on the air expends his blows. 

His match is sought, but sought in vain: 

’ Not one of all that mighty train 

Has nerve the champion to defy 

And round his hands the gantlets tie. 

So, filled with overweening might, 

And thinking all declined the fight, 

Before the chief he takes his stand, 

Lays on the bullock’s horn his hand, 
And thus in triumph cries : 

“ Why, goddess-born, this vain delay ? 

If none dare venture on the fray, 

How long shall justice be deferred ? 

*T were decent now to give the word 
And bid me take the prize.” 

With shouts the Trojan host agreed, 

And claimed their champion’s promised meed. 


Now with rebuke Acestes plies 

Entellus, whom beside him lies 

Upon the grassy sward : 
“ Entellus, whom erewhile we thought 
Our bravest hero, all for nought, 
And will you then the strife forego, 
And see borne off without a blow 

The champion’s proud reward ? 


BOOK V, 163 


Where now the pupil’s loyal pride 

In mighty Eryx deified, 

The fame that spread Trinacria o’er 

The trophies hanging from your door ?” 

“ Nay,” cries the chief, “no coward dread 

Has made ambition hide her head : 

But strength is slack in limbs grown old, 

And aged blood runs dull and cold. 

Had I the thing I once possessed 

Which makes yon braggart rear his crest, 

Had I but youth, no need had been 

Of gifts to lure me to the green: 

No, though the bull be twice as fair, 

Tis not the prize should make me dare.” 

Then on the ground in open view 

Two gloves of giant weight he threw 

Which Eryx once in combat plied 

And braced him with the tough bull-hide. 

In speechless wonder all behold : 

Seven mighty hides with fold on fold 

Enwrap the fist: and iron sewed 

And knobs of lead augment the load. 

K’en Dares starts in sheer dismay, 

And shuns the desperate essay ; 

The gantlets’ weight Atneas tries, 

And handles their enormous size. 

Then fetching speech from out his breast, 

The veteran thus his mind expressed : 

“ What if the gantlets you had seen 
Alcides wore that day, 

Had stood on this ensanguined green 

And watched the fatal fray ? 

These gloves your brother Eryx wore, 

Still stained, you see, with brains and gore. 

With these ’gainst Hercules he stood : 

With these, I fought, while youthful blood 


164 THE AINEID. 


Supplied me strength, nor age had shed 

Its envious winter on my head. 

But if the arms Sicilians wield 

Deter the Trojan from the field, 

If so Aneas’ thoughts incline, 
And so my chief approves, 

Let both be equal side and side 

I spare you Eryx’s grim bull-hide: 

Dismiss that terror, and resign 
In turn your Trojan gloves.” 

He said, and from his shoulders throws 
The robe he wont to use, 

His mighty frame’s contexture shows, 
His mighty arms and thews, 

And in the middle of the sand 

In giant greatness takes his stand. 


Then good Anchises’ son supplies 
Two pairs of gantlets matched in size, 
Equips the combatants alike, 
And sets them front to front to strike. 
Raised on his toes each champion stands, 
And fearless lifts in air his hands. 
Their heads, thrown back, avoid the stroke ; 
Their mighty arms the fight provoke. 
That on elastic youth relies, 
This on vast limbs and giant size ; 
But the huge knees with age are slack, 
And fitful gasps the deep chest rack. 
Full many a wound the heroes rain 
Each on the other, still in vain : 
Their hollow sides return the sound, 
Their battered chests the shock rebound : 
*Mid ears and temples come and go 
The wandering gantlets to and fro: 
The jarred teeth chatter “neath the blow. 


BOOK V. 165 


Firm stands Entellus in his place, 

A column rooted on its base ; 

His watchful eye and shrinking frame 

Alone avoid the gantlet’s aim. 

Like leaguer who invests a town 

Or sits before a hill-fort down, 

The younger champion tasks his art 

To find the bulwark’s weakest part, 

This way and that unwearied scans, 

And yainly tries a thousand plans. 

Entellus, rising to the blow, 

Puts forth his hand: the wary foe 

Midway in air the mischief spied, 

And, deftly shifting, slipped aside. 

Entellus’ force on air is spent: 

Heavily down with prone descent 

He falls, as from its roots uprent 

A pine falls hollow, on the side 

Of Erymanth or lofty Ide. 

Loud clamoring from their seats arise: 
Troy’s and Trinacria’s sons : 

The shouts mount upward to the skies: 
And first Acestes runs, 

And tenderly from earth uprears 

His ancient friend of equal years. 

But not disheartened by his foil, 

The champion rises from the soil: 

With wrath he goads his sluggard might, 

And turns him fiercer to the fight: 

The smoldering mass is stirred to flame 

By conscious worth and glowing shame : 

Ablaze with fury he pursues 
The Trojan o’er the green, 

And now his right hand deals the bruise 
And now his leit as keen. 

No pause, no respite: fierce and fast 


166 THE ANEID. 


As hailstones rattle down the blast 
On sloping roofs, with blow on blow 
He buffets Dares to and fro. 
But good Afneas suffered not 
The strife to rage too far: 
Orere Entellus waxed more hot, 
He bade him cease the war, 
Delivered Dares, sore distressed, 
And thus with soothing words addressed : 
“ Alas! what frenzy of the mind 
IIas made you, hapless friend, so blind ? 
Perceive you not the powers have changed, 
And left the side where once they ranged ? 
Give way to Heaven.” Such speech he made, 
And as he spoke the combat stayed. 
But Dares by a friendly throng 
All helplessly is dragged along, 
Trailing his knees his weight beneath, 
Swaying his head from side to side, 
While clotted gore and loosened teeth 
Pour from his mouth in mingled tide. 
They bear him to the ships away, 
Then at a call receive 
The helm and sword: the bulland bay 
They with Entellus leave. 
With triumph kindling in his eyes 
And glorying in the bull, his prize, 
The victor to the concourse cries: 
“Learn, goddess-born, and [lium’s host, 
What strength my youthful arm could boast, 
And what the death from whose dark door 
Your rescued Dares you restore.” 
He spoke, and stood before the bull, 
Swung back his arm, and planted full 
Between its horns the gantlet’s blow. 
The brain caine through the shattered skull; 


BOOK V. 


167 


Prone, quivering, dead, the beast lies low: 


While words like these the veteran said 
In consecration of the dead: 
“This better substitute I pay, 
Eryx, to thee, for Dares’ life, 
And here renounce, as conqueror may, 
The gantlets and the strife.” 


The champions next, who would compete 

In archer skill with arrow fleet, 
Afneas summons, and ordains 
The gifts that shall reward their pains. 
His mighty hand erects a mast 

Plucked from Serestus’ bark, 
And to its top a dove makes fast 

To be the bowman’s mark. 
The rivals gather to the spot: 
A brazen helm receives each lot: 
And first amidst applauding cries 
Hippocoon’s name to daylight flies : 
Next Mnestheus, wreathed with olive crown, 
Mnestheus, whose vessel earned renown. 
Third in the list Eurytion came, 
Thy brother, Pandarus, mighty name, 
Whose arrow, charged to break the peace, 
First fluttered through the ranks of Greece. 
Last at the bottom of the casque 

Acestes’ lot appears, 
He too adventuring to the task 

That matches younger years. 


They bend their bows like men of worth, 
And from the case their shafts draw forth ; 
And first from off the twanging string 
Hippocoon’s feathered dart takes wing, 
Achieves the passage, and sticks fast 
Full in the center of the mast 


168 THE ANEID. 


The stout tree quivers: the scared bird 

Flaps, and applauding peals are heard. 

Then Mnestheus raises towards the sky 

His bow, and levels shaft and eye : 

But ai.! the dove he might not wound: 
His arrow cuts the flaxen ties 

Which to the mast had held her bound; 
And forth into the clouds she flies. 

With shaft already aimed for flight, 
Eurytion to his brother vowed: 

Triumphant as she wings the height, 
He strikes the dove beneath a cloud. 

Pierced to the heart, she leaves behind 

Her life to mingle with the wind, 

And as she tumbles to the ground, 

The weapon in her side is found. 


And now, of victory bereft, 
Acestes at the end is left: 
Yet still he shoots in air, to show 
His veteran skill and sounding bow: 
When sudden lo! the gazers see 
A sign of mightiest augury: 
The dire event the truth revealed, 
And seers too late their warnings pealed. 
E’en in the mid expanse of skies 
The arrow kindles as it flies, ‘ 
Behind it draws a fiery glare, 
Then wasting, vanishes in air: 
So stars, dislodged, athwart the night 
Career, and trail a length of light. 
In wonder either nation gazed, 
Their souls to Heaven in prayer upraised, 
Nor great dAfneas dared disown 
The omen by the gods foreshown ; 
Acestes to his heart he pressed, 


BOOK V. 


With presents heaped, and thus addressed : 


“Take this, my father! ’tis decreed 

That yours should be a special meed: 
So speak these signs above. 

This bowl, enchased with figures, take, 

And keep it for Anchises’ sake: 

A gift which Cisseus, lord of Thrace, 

Once gave my sire of his dear grace, 
In token of their love.” 

Then round Acestes’ temples hoar 
He bound the wreath of bay, 

And hailed him all his peers before 
The conqueror of the day: 

Nor good Eurytion grudged to see 
The veteran’s claim preferred, 

Albeit that he, and none but he, 
Struck down the soaring bird. 

Next his who cut the cord, and last 

The champion’s turn who struck the mast, 


But good Aneas, e’en before 
The archers’ rivalry was o’er, 
In private summoned to his side 
The young Iulus’ trusted guide, 
Old Periphas Epytides, 
And gently whispered words like these : 
“ Go now, and if Ascanius’ band 
Of boyish knights is here at hand, 
Bid him on this his grandsire’s day 
Himself and them in arms display.” 
This said, he bids the company 
Retire, and leave the circus free. 
They enter, glittering side by side, 
And rein their steeds with youthful pride, 
As “neath their fathers’ eyes they ride, 
While all Trinacria’s host and Troy’s 


169 


170 THE AINEID. 


With plaudits greet the princely boys. 
Kach has his hair by rule confined 
With stripped-off leaves in garland twined: 
Some ride with shapely bows equipped: 
Two cornel spears they bear, steel-tipped: 
And wreaths of twisted gold invest 
The neck, and sparkle on the breast. 
Three are the companies of horse, 
And three the chiefs that scour the course. 
Twelve gallant boys each chief obey, 
And shine in tripartite array. 
Young Priam first, Polites’ heir, 
Well-pleased his grandsire’s name to bear, 
Leads his gay troop, himself decreed 
To raise up an Italian seed: 
He prances forth, all dazzling bright, 
On Thracian steed with spots of white: 
White on its fetlock’s front is seen, 
And white the space its brows between. 
Then Atys, next in place, from whom 
The Atian family descend : 
Young Atys, fresh with life’s first bloom, 
The boy Iulus’ sweet boy-friend : 
Tulus last, in form and face 
Pre-eminent his peers above, 
A courser rides of Tyrian race, 
Memorial gift of Dido’s love. 
Sicilian steeds the rest bestride 
From old Acestes’ stalls supplied. 
The Dardanids with mingling cheers 
Relieve the young aspirants’ fears, 
And gaze delighted, as they trace 
A parent’s mien in each fair face.* 
*« The shouting crowds admire their charms, and trace 
Their parents’ lines in every lovely face.” Pre: 
Not long before, Pitt has a line “‘ Around their brows 


BOOK V. 171 


And now when all from first to last 
Beneath their kinsfolk’s eyes had past, 

Before the assembled crowd, 
Epytides shrills forth from far 
His signal-shout, as if for war, 

And cracks his whip aloud. 

In equal parts the bands divide, 

And gallop off on either side: 

Then wheeling round in full career, 
Charge at a call with leveled spear. 
Again, again, they come and go 
Through adverse spaces to and fro ; 
Circles in circles interlock, 

And, sheathed in arms, the gazers mock 
With mimicry of battle-shock. 

And now they turn their backs in flight, 

Now put their spears in rest, 

And now in amity unite, 

And ride the field abreast. 
E’en as of old the Cretan maze 

With blind blank walls its secrets hid, 
A tangle of a thousand ways, 

Which whoso sought by signs to thrid 
Went wandering, baffled and involved, 
Through paths returnless and unsolved ; 
Such tangle make the youths of Troy 
As o’er the champaign they deploy, 
And deftly weave in sportive play 
A mingled web of fight and fray, 

As dolphins at their sport with ease 
The expanse of ocean sweep 


a vivid wreath they wore.” So it appears in all the 
editions that I have consulted; but I can scarcely 
doubt that ‘‘ vivid ”’ should be “ virid,” though the lat- 
ter word is more after the manner of Spenser or Milton 
than of eighteenth-century poetry, 


172 THE NEID. 


*T wixt Libyan and Carpathian seas, 
And gambol o’er the deep. 

This pageantry of mimic strife 

Ascanius called again to life, 

What time with wall and rampart strong 

He girdled Alba, named the Long, 

And to the elder Latins showed 

The celebration and the mode 

Which erst he practised when a boy, 

And, ’neath his lead, the youth of Troy. 

Young Alba learned the lesson set : 
From Alba queenly Rome 

teceived the lore, and honors yet 
The custom of her home, 

And Troy’s hereditary name 

Still marks the players and the game. 


Thus far the pageant rites were paid 
To blest Anchises’ hallowed shade. 
Now Fortune first with wayward guile 
Changed for a frown her former smile. 
Fell Juno, while before the mound 
The games perform their festal round, 
Despatches Iris from the sky 
And gives her wings of wind to fly, 
Deep plotting ill, her ancient pride 
Yet festering and unpacified. 

Adown her bow of myriad dyes, 

Unseen of all, the maiden hies: 

The mighty concourse she surveys, 
Then turns her to the sea: 

A port forsaken meets her gaze, 
A fleet from tendence free. 

sut on a sheltered beach alone 

The dames of Troy are making moan 

For their lost sire, and as they weep 


BOOK V. 173 


Look wistful, woful o’er the deep. 
O weary, weary length of foam ! 
O watery waste whereon to roam! 
So, one and all, they cry: 
A settled city they implore: 
*T were pain and heaviness once more 
The ocean’s toils to try. 
So now, not ignorant of harm, 
The goddess veils each heavenly charm, 
And sudden stands before their eyes 
In Beroe’s simulated guise, 
Beroe, Doryclus’ aged dame, 
Who once kad children, place and name 
And thus transfigured she proclaims 
Her presence to the assembled dames: 
“O wretches, whom in Ilium’s day 
The Argive conqueror spared to slay! 
O race long exercised in ill! 
For what extreme has Fortune’s will 
Preserved you living, suffering still? 
Now, since our country was no more, 
Seven summers nigh have flown, 
And we, still tossing ocean o’er, 
*Mid reefs of cold bare stone, 
O’erarched by alien stars above, 
All homeless and unfriended rove, 
While through the billows we pursue 
Italia, flying from the view, 
And down the tides are blown. 
Lo, here is Eryx’ brother coast, 
Acestes too, our kingly host: 
Why make not here our home, and bless 
With city walls the cityless? 
O country ! O ye home-god powers 
Snatched from the foe in vain! 
Shall never town of Troy be ours 


174 THE A2NEID. 


In all the world again ? 
Xanthus and Simois’, Hector’s streams, 
Shall I behold them but in dreams ? 
Come, share my counsel, and conspire 
To wrap these ill-starred ships in fire. 
E’en as I slept last night, methought 
New-lighted brands Cassandra brought, 
And ‘ Here,’ she cried, ‘ conclude your quest: 
Here find your Troy, your home of rest.’ 

This hour the deed demands. 
Shall man’s supineness mock the skies ? 
See, altars four to Neptune rise : 
The God, the God himself supplies 

The fury and the brands.” 


She seized a torch, and o’er her head 
Waved it with backdrawn arm, and sped. 
With kindling hearts and senses dazed 
The mothers of Dardania gazed. 

Then one, in reverend years the first, 

Pyrgo, who Priam’s sons had nurst : 

“ No Beroe, matrons, have you here: 
Not this Doryclus’ wife : 

See, breathing in her face appear 
Signs of celestial life : 

Observe her eyes, how bright they shine: 

Mien, accent, walk, are all divine. 

Beroe herself I left but now 

Sick and outworn, with clouded brow, 

That she alone should fail to pay 

Due reverence to Anchises’ day.” 


In doubt at first the matrons stand, 
And scan the ships with eyes malign, 
Divided *twixt their present land 
And that which beckons o’er the brine, 


BOOK V. 


When lo! her wings the Goddess spread, 
And skyward on her rainbow fled. 

Then, all as one to madness driven 

By portents manifest from heaven, 

A shout of loud acclaim they raise, 

Live embers snatch from hearths ablaze, 

The fuel on the altars seize, 

Hurl stocks and brands, and boughs of trees: 
The fire-god darts from mast to keel 

O’er bench, and oar, and figured deal. 


Swift breaks Eumelus on the games 
With tidings of the fleet in flames, 
And, looking back, the gazers spy 
The smoke-clouds blackening on the sky. 
Ascanius first, as o’er the mead 
He leads his young array, 
Spurs to the camp his fiery steed, 
Nor can his guardians, blown with speed, 
His headlong impulse stay : 
And “ Wretched countrywomen! whence,” 
He cries, “this rage that robs your sense ? 
No Greek encampment you consume: 
No; ’tis your own dear hopes ye doom. 
Look! your Ascanius speaks!” before ° 
His feet upon the sand 
He flung the helm he lately wore 
While marshaling his band. 
Afneas and the Trojan host 
Come hurrying, hasting to the coast. 
The guilty matrons, winged with dread, 
Along the devious shores are fled, 
Hide in the tangles of the grove, 
Or huddling seek some rocky cove: 
Their frenzied enterprise they rue, 
And loathe the blessed light of heaven ; 


a 


176 THE NEID. 


With sobering eyes their friends they view, 
And Juno from their souls is driven. 

Yet still with unabated power 

The fire continues to devour : 

*T wixt the soaked timbers oozes slow 

Thick vapor from the smoldering tow ; 

The threads of pestilential flame 

Steal downward through each vessel’s frame 3 

Nor all the efforts of the brave 

Nor streaming floods avail to save. 


In desperate grief AZneas rends 
His raiment, and his hands extends: 
“Dread Sire, if Ilium’s lorn estate 
Deserve not yet thine utter hate, 
If still thine ancient faithfulness 
Give heed to mortals in distress, 
O let the fleet escape the flame! 
O save from death Troy’s dying name! 
Or, if my deeds the stroke demand, 
Then, Father, bare thy red right hand, 
Send forth thy lightning, and o’erwhelm 
The poor remainder of our realm!” 
Scarce had he ended, when from high 

Pours down a burst of rain, 
And thunder rolling round the sky 
Shakes rising ground and plain : 

All heaven lets loose its watery store ; 
The clouds are massed, the south winds roar: 
With sluicing rain the ships are drenched, 
Till every spark at last is quenched, 
And all the barks, save only four, 
Escape the fiery conqueror. 


But good Afneas, all distraught 
By that too cruel blow, 


BOOK V. | 177 


In dire perplexity of thought 
Alternates to and fro, 

Still doubting, should he take his rest, 

Unmindful of the Fates’ behest, 

In Sicily, or seek once more 

To compass the Italian shore. 

Then Nautes, whose experienced mind 

Pallas made sage beyond his kind, 

Interpreting what Heaven’s dread ire 

Might threaten, or the Fates require, 

Breathes counsel in Atneas’ ear, 

And strives his anxious soul to cheer: 

“ My chief, let Fate cry on or back, 

Tis ours to follow, nothing slack : 

Whate’er betide, he only cures 

The stroke of Fortune who endures. 

Lo here Acestes the divine, 

Himself a prince of Dardan line: 

Invite his counsel; bid him share 

(He will not grudge) your load of care. 

Give to his charge the homeless band 

That erst our four lost vessels manned, 

Whoe’er from high emprise recoils 

And sickens to partake your toils, 

Old men and wayworn dames, and all 

That faints and shrinks at danger’s call ; 

Here let the weary set them down, 

And build them a Sicilian town : 

Let courtesy assert her claim, 

And give the place Acestes’ name.” 


With kindling soul he meditates 
The counsel of his friend, 

And fiercer still the dire debates 
His troubled bosom rend. 

Now sable night invests the sky, 
I2 


178 THE ANEID. 


When lo! descending from on high 
The semblance of Anchises seemed 
To give him counsel as he dreamed : 
“ My son, more dear, while life remained, 
E’en than that life to me, 
My son, long exercised and trained 
In Ilium’s destiny, 
My errand is from Jove the sire, 
Who saved your vessels from the fire, 
And sent at last from heaven above 
The wished-for token of his love. 
Hear and obey the counsel sage 
Bestowed by Nautes’ reverend age; 
Picked youths, the bravest of the brave, 
Be these your comrades o’er the wave, 
For haughty are the tribes and rude 
That Latium has to be subdued. 
Butere you yet confront the foe, 
First seek the halls of Dis below, 
Pass deep Avernus’ vale, and meet 
Your father in his own retreat. 
Not Tartarus’ prison-house of crime 
Detains me, nor the mournful shades : 
My home is in the Elysian clime, 
With righteous souls, ’mid happy glades. 
The virgin Sibyl with the gore 
Of sable sheep shall ope the door ; 
Then shall you learn your future line, 
And what the walls the Fates assign. 
And now farewell : dew-sprinkled Night 
Has scaled Olympus’ topmost height : 
I catch their panting breath from far, 
The steeds of Morning’s cruel star.” 
Ile said, and vanished out of sight, 
Like thinnest smoke, and mixed with night ; 
While “ Whither now ?” Aeneas cries ; 


BOOK V. 179 


“ What makes thee hurry thus apace ? 
Whom fliest thou ? what constraint denies 
A father to his son’s embrace ?” 
With that he wakes the slumbering fire, 
Adores the home-god of his sire, 
And worships Vesta’s awful power 
With frankincense and wheaten flour. 


At once he sumnions to his side 

Acestes and his comrades tried, 
Jove’s mandate and his sire’s unfolds, 
And how at length his purpose holds. 
No long debates the deed delay, 
Nor good Acestes says him nay. 
Forthwith the matrons they enroll, 

First dwellers in the new-planned town, 
And disembark each weary soul 

That thirsts no more for high renown. 
Themselves the fire-charred planks renew, 

The benches and the decks repair, 
Equip with oars each vessel’s crew, 

And rig the masts with studious care, 
A gallant band, in number few, 

In spirit resolute to dare. 


Meantime Aneas draws the lines 
Of the new town, its homes assigns : 
Each place receives a name to bear, 
And here ’tis Troy, and Ilium there. 
Acestes, genuine son of Troy, 
Assumes the sovereignty with joy, 
Holds trial of each doubtful cause, 
And gives the infant senate laws. 
On Eryx’ top a fane they raise, 

To mate the stars, in Venus’ praise, 
And with a priest and grove they grace 


180 THE ANEID. 


Anchises’ hallowed resting-place. 


And now the nine days’ feast is o’er, 
The sacred rites complete ; 
The hushed gales smooth the watery floor ; 
The south-wind, freshening from the shore, 
Invites the lingering fleet. 
Along the winding coast arise 
Loud sounds of grief and tearful cries. 
Locked in each other’s arms they stay, 
And clog the wheels of night and day. 
Nay, e’en the matrons, e’en the crew 
Who shuddered at the ocean’s view 
And loathed its name, now fain would flee 
And brave the hardships of the sea. 
With kindliness of gentle speech 
The good Aneas comforts each, 
And to their kinsman prince commends 
With tears his subjects and his friends. 
Three calves to Eryx next he kills ; 
A lambkin’s blood to Tempest spills, 
And bids them loose from land : 
With olive leaves he binds his brow, 
Then takes his station on the prow, 
A charger in his hand, 
Flings out the entrails on the brine, 
And pours a sacred stream of wine. 
Fair winds escort them o’er the deep: 
With emulous strokes the waves they sweep. 


But Venus, torn by many a fear, 
Thus breathes her plaint in Neptune’s ear: 
“Fell Juno’s persecuting ire, 
Still raging with unsated fire, 
Compels me, Neptune, to abase 
My pride, and humbly sue for grace. 


BOOK V. 181 


No lapse of time, how long soe’er, 
Nor all the force of duteous prayer, 
Nor hest of Jove, nor will of Fate 
That changeless rancor can abate. 
Tis not enough to have devoured 
A queenly city, walled and towered, 
And made the wretched captives drain 
E’en to its dregs the cup of pain : 
She still pursues the flying rout, 
And strives to stamp the last spark out ;— 
Strange mystery of hatred, known 
To none but to herself alone! 
Thyself wast there when lately she 
Raised tumult in the Libyan sea; 
Thou saw’st in what confusion blent 
She mingled main and firmament, 
Armed with Aolian storms in vain, 
In bold defiance of thy reign. 
Now, working on the Trojan dames, 
She foully wraps our fleet in flames, 
And drives the crews, their vessels lost, 
To settle on an unknown coast. 
Thus then, for what remains, I crave 
Thine own safe conduct o’er the wave, 
That so, emerging from the main, 
Laurentian Tiber they may gain, 
If what I ask is ruled in Heaven, 
If there the city Fate has given.” 
Great Ocean’s lord replied: “’Tis just 
Cythera’s queen my realm should trust, 
Which erst her being gave : 
And ofttimes too has Neptune won 
Her confidence by service done 
In calming wind and wave: 
Nor e’en on earth (let Xanthus speak 
And Simois) has my arm been weak 


189 THE AMNEID. 


Thy gallant son to save. 
When fierce Achilles from the coast 
Drove to their walls Troy’s panting host, 
While the choked rivers gasped for breath, 
And gave whole multitudes to death, 
And laboring Xanthus strove in vain 
To roll his waters to the main, 
Then, as Aneas, undismayed, 
With weaker strength and feebler aid 
Pelides met, I barred the fray, 
And bore him in a cloud away, 
Though all my will was to destroy 
My own creation, perjured Troy. 
And now as then my heart is set 
To work him good: thy fears forget. 
Avernus’ haven he shall see 
In safety, where he fain would be. 
One life alone shall glut the wave ; 
One head shall fall the rest to save.” 


Thus having soothed the Goddess’ cares, 
His fiery steeds the Father pairs, 
With foamy bit each fierce mouth checks, 
Then flings the reins upon their necks. 
Along the surface of the tides 
His sea-green chariot smoothly glides: 
Hushed by his wheels the billows lie ; 
The storm-clouds vanisk from the sky 
His vassals follow in his wake, 
Sea-monsters of enormous make, 
Palemon, child of Ino’s strain, 
With Glaucus’ venerable train, 
And Tritons, swift to cleave the flood, 
And Phorcus’ finny multitude. 
Then Thetis comes, and Melite, 
Nese, Spio, Panope, 


BOOK V. 183 


Thalia and Cymodoce. 


A pleasing joy suceeds to fear 
In good Aneas’ mind: 
He bids them all their masts uprear, 
And spread their sails to wind 
All at the word throughout the fleet 
Stretch out the canvas on the sheet ; 
Now left, now right, alike they shift : 
The gales are kind, the barks fly swift ; 
First Palinurus leads the way ; 
The rest observe him, and obey. 
Now Night’s fleet coursers almost reach 
The summit of the sky: 
The weary oarsmen, all and each, 
long the benches lie, 
When lo! false Sleep, on pinions light, 
Drops down from heaven and cleaves the night ; 
Sad dreams to thee beneath his wings, 
Unhappy Palinure, he brings, 
Lights on the stern in Phorbas’ guise, 
And thus with soft enticement plies : 
«See, Palinure, the vessels glide 
E’en with the motion of the tide ; 
The breeze with steady current blows 5 
The very hour invites repose : 
Rest your tired head, and for awhile 
Those hard-tasked eyes of toil beguile ; 
Myself will take, for that short space, 
The rudder, and supply your place.” 
Scarce lifting from the heaven his eyes, 
The wary Palinure replies: 
“ What? I the dupe of Ocean’s wiles? 
I frust this fiend that fawns and smiles? 
Cc omit AZneas to the gale, 
V ho oft have proved how false its tale?” 


184 THE ABNEID. 


Thus as he speaks, his hand and eye 
Cleave to the rudder and the sky ; 
When lo! the god a slumberous bough 
With dews of Styx and Lethe wet 
Shakes gently o’er the watcher’s brow, 
And seals those eyes, so firmly set. 
Scarce had the loosening limbs given way, 
The demon falls upon his prey, 
And hurls him, dragging wood-work rent 
And rudder in his prone descent, 
With headlong ruin to the main, 
Invoking friendly aid in vain : 
Himself resumes his wings, and flies 
Aloft into the buoyant skies. 
Yet still the fleet by Neptune’s aid 
Floats onward, safe and undismayed, 
Till as they near the Sirens’ shore, 
A perilous neighborhood of yore 
And white with mounded bones, 
Where the hoarse sea with far-heard roar 
Keeps washing on the stones, 
The good chief feels the vessel sway, 
No steersman to direct its way, 
And takes himself the helm, and guides 
Their progress through the darkling tides. 
Full many a heart-fetched groan he heaved, 
Thus of his hapless friend bereaved : 
“ Ah fatal confidence, too prone 
To trust in sea and sky ! 
A naked corpse on shores unknown 
Shall Palinurus lie!” 


BOOK VI, 


BOOK VI. 


185 


ARGUMENT.—The Sibyl foretells Afneas the adven- 
tures he should meet with in Italy. She attends him to 
hell; describing to him the various scenes of that place 
and conducting him to his father Anchises, who in- 
structs him in the sublime mysteries of the soul, of the 
world, and the transmigration, and shows him that glo- 
rious race of heroes which was to descend from him and 


his posterity. 


So cries he while the tears run down, 

And gives his fleet the rein, 
Till, sailing on, the Euboic town 

Of Cume they attain : 
Toward the sea they turn their prores ; 
Each weary bark the anchor moors: 
The crooked sterns invest the shores, 
With buoyant hearts the youthful band 
Leap out upon the Hesperian strand ; 
Some seek the fiery sparkles sown, 
Deep in the veins of cold flint-stone: 
Some fell the silvan-haunted woods, 
And point with joy to new-found floods. 


But to the Leight Aneas hies 
Where Phebus holds his seat, 
And seeks the cave of wondrous size, 
The Sibyl’s dread retreat— 
The Sibyl, whom the Delian seer 
Inspires to see the future clear, 
And fills with frenzy’s heat: 
The grove they enter, and behold 
Above their heads the roof of gold. 


186 THE ASNEID. 


Sage Diedalus, so runs the tale, 
From Minos bent. to fly, 
On feathery pinions dared to sail 
Along the untraveled sky, 
Flies northward through the polar heights, 
Nor stays till he on Cume lights. 
First landed here, he consecrates 
The wings whereon he flew 
To Phebus’ power, and dedicates 
A fane of stately view. 
Androgeos’ death the gates portray : 
Then Cecrop’s sons appear, 
Condemned the price of blood to pay, 
Seven children year by year ; 
There, standing by the urn, they wait 
The drawing of the lots of fate. 
Emergent on the other side 
The isle of Gnossus crests the tide; 
Pasiphe shows her sculptured face, 
And Minotaur, of mingled race, 
Memorial of her foul disgrace, 
There too develops to the gaze 
The all inextricable maze ; 
But Deedalus with pity moved 
For her who desperately loved, 
Himself his own dark riddle read, 
And gave a clue to guide the tread. 
Thou too, poor Icarus, there hadst filled 
No narrow room, if grief had willed: 
Twice strove the sire thy tale to tell : 
Twice the raised hands grew slack and fell, 
So had they viewed the sculptures o’er, 
But now Achates, sent before, 
teturned, his errand done, 
And at his side Deiphobe, 
Pho:bus and Dian’s priestess she, 


BOOK VI. 187 


Who thus her speech begun: 
“ Not this the time, like idle folk, 
The hungry gaze to feed ; 
Haste, doom ye to the victim-stroke 
Seven bulls, unconscious of the yoke, 
Seven ewes of choicest breed.” 


This to Mneas ; nor his band 
Neglects the priestess’ high command ; 
And now she bids the Teucrian train 
Attend her to the lofty fane. 

Within the mountain’s hollow side 

A cavern stretches high and wide: 

A hundred entries thither lead ; 

A hundred voices thence proceed, 

Each uttering forth the Sibyl’s rede. 

The sacred threshold now they trod: 

“ Pray for an answer! pray ! the God,” 
She cries, “the God is nigh!” 

And as before the doors in view 

She stands, her visage pales its hue, 
Her locks disheveled fly, 

Her breath comes thick, her wild heart glows, 

Dilating as the madness grows, 

Her form looks larger to the eye, 

Unearthly peals her deep-toned cry, 

As breathing nearer and more near 

The God comes rushing on his seer. 

“ So slack,” cries she, “at work divine ? 
Pray, Trojan, pray! not else the shrine 
Its spellbound silence breaks.” 

A shudder through the Dardans stole: 
Their chieftain from his inmost soul 

His supplication makes: 


“Phoebus, who ever hadst a heart. 


188 THE AANEID. 


For Illium’s woe to feel, 
Who guided Paris’ Dardan dart 

True to Achilles’ heel, 
So many seas round shores spread wide 
Beneath thy conduct have I tried, 
Massylian tribes, the ends of earth, 
And climes which Libyan sands engirths 
Now scarce at last we lay our hand 
On Italy’s receding land: 
Suffice it, Troy’s malignant star 
Has followed on our path thus far! 
You too, ye Gods, may now forbear, 
And these our hapless relics spare, 
Whom Ilium in her prosperous hour 
Affronted with o’erweening power. 
And thou, dread maiden, who canst see 
The vision of the things to be, 
Vouchsafe the boon for which I sue— 
My fates demand no lighter due— 
That Troy and Troy’s lorn gods may find 
In Latium rest from wave and wind. 
Then to thy patron gods a fane 
Of solid marble’s purest grain 
My hand shall build, and festal days 
Preserve in life Apollo’s praise. 
Thee too in that my promised state 
August observances await : 
For there thy words I will enshrine , 
Delivered to my race and line, 
And chosen ministers ordain, 
Custodians of the sacred strain. 
But O commit not, I implore, 
To faithless leaves thy precious lore, 
Lest by the wind’s wild eddies tost 
Abroad they fly, their sequence lost. 
Thyself the prophecy declare.” 


! 
4 


BOOK VI. 189 


He said, and speaking closed his prayer. 


The seer, impatient of control, 

Raves in the cavern vast, 
And madly struggles from her soul 

The incumbent power to cast: 
He, mighty Master, plies the more 
Her foaming mouth, all chafed and sore, 
Tames her wild heart with plastic hand, 
And makes her docile to command. 
Now, all untouched, the hundred gates 
Fly open, and proclaim the fates : 
«QO freed at length from toils by sea! 

But worse on land remain. 
The warrior-sons of Dardany 

Lavinium’s realm shall gain ; 
That fear dismiss; but Fortune cross 
Shall make them wish their gain were loss. 
War, dreadful war, and Tiber flood 
T see incarnadined with blood. 
Simois and Xanthus and the plain 
Where Greece encamped shall rise again : 
A new Achilles, goddess-born, 

The destinies provide, 
And Juno, like a rankling thorn, 

Shall never quit your side, 
While you, distressed and desolate, 
Go knocking at each city’s gate. 
The old, old cause shall stir the strife, 
A stranger bed, a foreign wife. 
Yet still despond not, but proceed 
Along the path where Fate may lead. 
The first faint gleam that gilds your skies 
Shall from a Grecian city rise.” 


Such presages of doom divine 


190 "SHE AENEID. 


Shrills forth the priestess from her shrine, 
And wraps her truth in mystery round, 
While all the cave returns the sound ; 
Still the fierce power her hard mouth wrings, 
And deep and deeper plants his stings. 
Soon as the frenzy-fit was o’er 
And foamed the savage lips no more, 
The chief begins: “No cloud can rise 
Unlooked for to Aineas’ eyes: 
My prescient soul has all forecast, 
And seen the future as the past. 
One boon I crave: since here, ’tis said, 
The path leads downward to the dead, 
Where Acheron’s brimming waters spread, 
There let me go, and see the face 

Of him, the father of my love ; 
Thyself the dubious journey trace, 

And the dread gates remove. 
Ilim through the fire these shoulders bore 
And from the heart of battle tore : 
He shared my travel, braved with me 
The menaces of every sea, 
The ocean’s roar, the tempest’s rage, 
With feeble strength transcending age. 
Nay, ’twas his voice that bade me seek 
Thy presence, and thine aid bespeak. 
O pity son and father both, 

Blest maid! for nought to thee is hard, 
Nor vainly sworn was Dian’s oath 

That placed thee here, these shades, to 

guard. 

If Orpheus back to light and life 
Could summon his departed wife, 
Albeit he owned no other spell 
Than the soft breathings of his shell 5 
If Pollux ransomed from the tomb 


——————— 


BOOK VI. 191 


His brother’s shade, and halved his doom, 
And trod and trod again the way— 

Why talk of Theseus? why 
Of great Alcides ? I, as they, 

Descend from Jove most high.” ' 


So spoke he, hand on altar laid: 

The priestess took the word, and said: 
“Tnheritor of blood divine, 
Preserver of Anchises’ line, 
The journey down to the abyss 

Is prosperous and light : 
The palace-gates of gloomy Dis 

Stand open day and night: 
But upward to retrace the way 
Ard pass into the light of day, 
‘There comes the stress of labor; this 

May task a hero’s might. 
A few, whom Heaven has marked for love, 
Or glowing worth has throned above, 
Themselves of seed divine conceived, 
The desperate venture have achieved. 
Besides, the interval of ground 

Is clothed with thickest wood, 
And broad Cocytus winds around 

Its dark and sinuous flood. 
But still should passionate desire 
Stir in your soul so fierce a fire, 
Twice o’er the Stygian pool to swim, 
Twice look on Tartarus’ horrors dim, 
If nought will quench your madman’s thirst, 
Then learn what duties claim you first. 
Deep in a mass of leafy growth, 
Its stem and foliage golden both, 
A precious bough there lurks unseen, 
Held sacred to the infernal queen : 


192 THE ANEID. 


Around it bends the whole dark grove, 

And hides from view the treasure-trove. 

Yet none may reach the shades without 

The passport of that golden sprout : 

For so has Proserpine decreed 

That this should be her beauty’s meed. 

One plucked, another fills its room, 

And burgeons with like precious bloom, 

Go, then, the shrinking treasure track, 
And pluck it with your hand: 

. Itself will follow, nothing slack, 
Should fate the deed command: 

If not, no weapon man can wield 

Will make its dull reluctant yield, 

Then, too, your comrade’s breathless clay 

(Alas ! you know not) taints the day 
And poisons all your fleet, 

While on our threshold still you stay 
And Heayen’s response entreat. 

Him to his parent earth return 

Observant, and his bones inurn. 

Lead to the shrine black cattle : they 
Will cleanse whate’er would else pollute: 

Thus shall you Acheron’s banks survey, 

Where never living soul finds way.” 
She ended, and was mute. 


With downcast visage, sad and grave, 

Afneas turns him from the cave, 

And ponders o’er his woe: 
Still by his side Achates moves, 
Companion to the chief he loves, 

As musingly and slow. 
Much talked they on their onward way, 
Debating whose the senseless clay 

That claims a comrade’s tomb; 


bE. 


BOOK VI. 192 


When on the naked shore, behold, 
They see Misenus, dead and cold, 
Destroyed by ruthless doom 3; 
The son of Aolus, than who 
None e’er more skilled the trumpet blew, 
To animate the warrior crew 
And martial fire relume. 
Once Hector’s comrade, in the fray 
He mingled, proud the spear to sway 
Or bid the clarion sound : 
When Hector ’neath the conqueror died, 
He joined him to Aineas’ side, 
Nor worse allegiance found. 
Now, as he sounds along the waves 
His shell, and Heaven to conflict braves, 
’Tis said that Triton heard his boast, 
And ’mid the billows on the coast 
Sunk low his drowning head. 
So all the train with cries of grief 
Assailed the skies, Aineas chief: 
Then, as the Sibyl bade, they ply 
Their mournful task, and heap on high 
With timber rising to the sky 
The altar of the dead. 


First to the foremost they repair, 
The silvan prowler’s leafy lair: 
The pitch-tree falls beneath the stroke ; 
The sharp ax rings upon the oak : 
Through beechen core the wedge goes deep: 
The ash comes rolling down the steep, 
Aineas stirs his comrades’ zeal, 
And foremost wields the workman’s steel. 
In moody silence he surveys 
The boundless grove: at last he prays 
« Ah! would some God but show me now 


13 


194 THE AANEID. 


In all that wood the golden bough! 
My poor, poor friend! in thee, alas, 
The Sibyl’s words have come to pass.” 
Searce had he said, when lo! there flew 
Two snow-white doves before his view, 

And on the sward took rest ; 
His mother’s birds the hero knew, 

And joyful prayer addrest : 
“Hail, gentle guides! before me fly, 
And mark my pathway on the sky: 
So lead me where the bough of gold 
Glooms rich above its parent mold. 
And thou, my mother, aid my quest, 
Nor leave me doubtful and distrest.” 
He stayed his steps, intent to know 
What signs they give, which way they go. 
By turns they feed, by turns they fly, 
Just in the range of human eye ; 
Till when they scent the noisome gale 
Which dark Avernus’ jaws exhale, 
Aloft they rise in rapid flight : 
Then on the tree at once alight 
Where flashing through the leaves is seen 
The golden bough’s contrasted sheen. 
As in the depth of winter’s snow 
The parasitic mistletoe 
Bursts with fresh bloom, and clothes anew 
The smooth bare stems with saffron hue: 
So ’mid the oak’s umbrageous green 
The gleam of leafy gold was seen: 
So ’mid the sounds of whispering trees 
The thin foil tinkled in the breeze. 
At once Afneas grasps the spray: 
His haste o’ercomes its coy delay, 
And laden with the new-won prize 
Beneath the Sibyl’s roof he hies. 


BOOK VI. 195 


Nor less meanwhile the Trojans pay 
To dead Misenus’ thankless clay 
The last memorial rite : 
And first a giant pile they raise 
With oak and fir to feed the blaze, 
With dark-leaved boughs its sides enlace, 
Sad cypresses before its place, 
And deck with armor bright. 
Some fix the caldron, heat the wave, 
And oil the corpse which first they lave. 
Loud wails are heard: then on his bed, 
The weeping done, they stretch the dead, 
And heap above, the cold limbs o’er, 
The purple robes the living wore : 
Some lend their shoulders to the bier; 
A ministration sad and drear, 
And, as their fathers wont, apply 
The firebrands with averted eye ; 
While streaming oil and offered spice 
Blaze up with flesh and sacrifice. 
And now, when sank the embers down, 
And ceased the flame to burn, 
The smoldering heap with wine they drown, 
And Coryneus from the pyre 
Collects the bones, charred white by fire, 
And stores in brazen urn : 
Then to his comrades thrice he gave 
Lustration from the flowing wave, 
With showery dew and olive bough 
Besprinkling each polluted brow, 
And spoke the last acclaim. 
But good Atneas bids arise 
A funeral mound of mighty size ; 
There plants the arms the warrior bore, 
The trumpet and the shapely oar, 
Seneath a mountain high in air, 


196 THE ANEID. 


Which bears, and evermore shall bear, 
From him Misenus’ name. 


This done, he hastens to fulfil ' 
The dictates of the Sibyl’s will. 
Before his eyes a monstrous cave 

Expands its yawning womb, 
Protected by the lake’s dark wave 

And forest’s leafy gloom : 

O’er that dread space no flying thing 
Unjeoparded could ply its wing ; 
Such noisome exhalations rise 

From out its darkness to the skies. 
Here first the priestess sets in view 
Four goodly bulls of sable hue, 

And ’twixt their horns pours forth the wine. 
The topmost hairs she next plucks out, 
That bristling on the forehead sprout, 

An offering to the flame divine ; 

On Hecate the while she cries, 

The Mighty One of shades and skies. 
Some ’neath the throat thrust in the knife, 
And catch in cups the stream of life. 

To Earth, and Night, the Furies’ dam, 
/neas slays a black ewe-lamb, 

And bids a barren heifer bleed, 

For thee, dread Proserpine, decreed. 

To Pluto then he sets alight 

High altars, flaming through the night, 

And on the embers lays 
Whole bulls denuded of their hide, 

Still pouring oil in copious tide 

To feed the surging blaze. 
When lo, as morning’s orient red 

Just brightens o’er the sky, 

The firm ground bellows ‘neath their tread, 


BOOK VI. 


The wooded summits rock and sway, 
And through the shade the hell-hounds’ bay 
Proclaims the goddess nigh. 
“ Back, ye unhallowed,” shrieks the seer, 
“ And leave the whole wide forest clear : 
Come, great Atneas, tread the way, 
And keep your falchion bared : 
Now for a heart that scorns dismay: 
Now for a soul prepared.” 
This said, with madness in her face 
She plunged into the cave : 
He with her lengthening stride keeps pace, 
As fearless and as brave. 


Eternal Powers, whose sway controls 
The empire of departed souls, 
Ye too, throughout whose wide domain 
Blank Night and grisly Silence reign, 
Hoar Chaos, awful Phlegethon, 
What ear has heard let tongue make known : 
Vouchsafe your sanction, nor forbid 
To utter things in darkness hid. 


Along the illimitable shade 
Darkling and lone their way they made, 
Through the vast kingdom of the dead, 
An empty void, though tenanted : 
So travelers in a forest move 
With but the uncertain moon above, 
Beneath her niggard light, 
When Jupiter has hid from view 
The heaven, and Nature’s every hue 
Is lost in blinding night. 


At Oreus’ portals hold their lair 
Wild Sorrew and avenging Care; 


13 


198 THE AINEIL. 


And pale Diseases cluster there, 
And pleasureless Decay, 
Foul Penury, and Fears that kill,* 
And Hunger, counselor of ill, 
A ghastly presence they: 
Suffering and Death the threshold keep, 
And with them Death’s blood-brother, Sleep: 
Ill Joys with their seducing spells 
And deadly War are at the door ; 
The Furies couch in iron cells, 
And Discord maddens and rebels ; 
Her snake-locks hiss, her wreaths drip gore, 


Full in the midst an aged elm 
Broods darkly o’er the shadowy realm : 
There dreamland phantoms rest the wing, 
Men say, and *neath its foliage cling, 
And many monstrous shapes beside 
Within the infernal gates abide ; 
There Centaurs, Scyllas, fish and maid, 
There Briareus’ hundred-handed shade, 

Chimera armed with flame, 
Gorgons and Harpies make their den, 
With the foul pest of Lerna’s fen, 

And Geryon’s triple frame. 
Alarmed, Aineas grasps his brand 
And points it at the advancing band ; 

And were no Sibyl there 
To warn him that the goblin swarm 
Are empty shades of hollow form, 
He would be rushing on the foe, 
And cleaving with intrenchant blow 

The unsubstantial air. 

* « The fear that kills, 


And hope that is unwilling to be fed.” 
Wokvsworrd, Lesoluiion and Independence, 


BOOK VI. 199 


The threshold passed, the road leads on 

To Tartarus and to Acheron. 
At distance rolls the infernal flood, 
Seething and swollen with turbid mud, 
And into dark Cocytus pours 
The burden of its oozy stores. 
Grim, squalid, foul, with aspect dire, 
His eyeballs each a globe of fire, 
The watery passage Charon keeps, 
Sole warden of those murky deeps: 
A sordid mantle round him thrown 
Girds breast and shoulder like a zone. 
He plies the pole with dexterous ease, 
Or sets the sail to catch the breeze, 
Ferrying the legions of the dead 
In bark of dusky iron-red, 
Now seamed with age; but heavenly powers 
Have fresher, greener eld than ours. 
Towards the ferry and the shore 
The multitudinous phantoms pour; 
Matrons, and men, and heroes dead, 
And boys and maidens, yet unwed, 
And youths who funeral fires have fed 

Before their parents’ eye: 
Dense as the leaves that from the treen 
Float down when autumn first is keen, 
Or as the birds that thickly massed 
Fly landward from the ocean vast, 
Driven over sea by wintry blast 

To seek a sunnier sky. 
Each in pathetic suppliance stands, 

So may he first be ferried o’er, 
And stretches out his helpless hands 

In yearning for the further shore: 
The ferryman, austere and stern, 
Takes these and those in varying turn, 


200 THE ASNEID. 


While other some he scatters wide, 
And chases from the river side. 


/Eneas, startled at the scene, 
Cries, “ Tell me, priestess, what may mean 
This concourse to the shore ? 
What cause can shade from shade divide 
That these should leave the river side, 
Those sweep the dull waves o’er?” 
The ancient seer made brief reply : 
« Anchises’ seed, of those on high 
The undisputed heir, 
Cocytus’ pool and Styx you see, 
The stream by whose dread majesty 
No God will falsely swear. 
A helpless and unburied crew 
Is this that swarms before your view: 
The boatman, Charon: whom the wave 
Is carrying, these have found their grave. 
For never man may travel o’er 
That dark and dreadful flood, before 
His bones are in the urn. 
F’en till a hundred years are told 
They wander shivering in the cold: 
At length admitted they behold 
The stream for which they yearn.” 
In deep thought paused Anchises’ seed 
And pondered o’er their cruel need. 
Tombless and sad, there meet his view 
Leucaspis and Orontes true, 
Who Lycia’s navy led: 
With him they left their Eastern home; 
The south wind whelmed them ‘neath the foam, 
' And men and bark were sped. 


Lo! pilot Palinurus’ ghost 


BOOK VI. 201 


Was wandering restlessly, 
Who, voyaging that fatal night, 
While on the stars he bent his sight, 
Was tumbled headlong from his post 
And flung upon the sea. 
Searce in the gloom the godlike man 
His lost friend knew; then thus began: 
« Ah Palinure! what God was he 
That snatched you from my fleet and me 
And plunged you in the deeps? 
Apollo, true in all beside, 
Here only has his word belied ; 
He promised you should ’scape and reach 
In safety the Ausonian beach ; 
Lo! thus his faith he keeps !” 
Then he: “Nor false was Pheebus’ shrine, 
Nor godhead whelmed me in the brine. 
I slipped: the helm by which I steered 
Still to my tightening grasp adhered, 
Broke off, and with me fell. 
The ruthless powers of ocean know 
’T was not my fate that feared me so, 
As lest your ship, of help forlorn, 
Her pilot lost, her helm down-torn, 
Should fail in such a swell. 
Three long cold nights ’neath south winds’ sweep 
I drifted o’er the unmeasured deep: 
Scarce on the fourth dim dawn I sight 
Italia from the billow’s height. 
Stroke after stroke I swam to shore ; 
And peril now was all but o’er, 
When, as in cumbering garments wet 
I grasped the steep with talon clutch, 
With swords the barbarous natives set 
On my poor life, my gear to touch. 
Now o’er the ocean am I blo vn, 


902 THE ARNEID. 


Or tossed on shore from stone to stone. 
O, by the genial light of day, 

By those soft airs on earth that play, 
By your loved sire I make my prayer, 
By the sweet promise of your heir, 
Respect our friendship: give relief 
From these my ills, unconquered chief: 
And either heap, as well you can, 

Some earth upon a wretched man— 

*T will cost you but to measure back 

To Velia’s port your watery track— 

Or if perchance some way be known, 
Some path by your blest mother shown, 
For not unhelped of heaven, I trow, 
O’er those dread floods you hope to go, 
Vouchsate the pledge my misery craves, 
And take me with you o’er the waves, 
That so in resting-place of peace 

My wandering life at length may cease.” 
His piteous plaint was scarcely done 
When thus the prophetess begun : 
“Whence, Palinure, this wild desire ? 
What, still unburied, you aspire 

To see the stream the Furies guard, 
And tread, unbid, the bank’s pale sward ? 
No longer dream that human prayer 
The will of fate can overbear. 

Yet take and in your memory store 
This cordial for your sorrow sore. 

For know, that cruel countryside, 
Alarmed by portents far and wide, 
Shall lay your spirit, raise a mound, 
And send down offerings underground : 
And all the coast, while time endures, 
Shall link its name with Palinure’s.” 
He hears, and feels his grief no more, 


BOOK VI. 203 


but glories in the namesake shore. 


Once more upon their way they go, 
And near the stream of sulphurous flow. 
Whom when the gloomy boatman saw 
Still nigher through the forest draw 
And touch the bank, with warning tone 
He hails the visitants unknown: 

“ Whoe’er you are that sword in hand 
Our Stygian flood approach, 
Your errand speak from where you stand, 
Nor further dare encroach. 
These climes the specters hold of right, 
The home of sleep and slumberous night; 
My laws forbid me to convey 
Substantial forms of breathing clay. 
»T was no good hour that made me take 
Alcides o’er the nether lake, 
Nor found I more auspicious freight 
In Theseus and his daring mate ; 
Yet all were Heaven’s undoubted heirs, 
And prowess more than man’s was theirs. 
That from our monarch’s footstool dragged 
The infernal watchdog, bound and gagged : 
These strove to force from Pluto’s side 
Our mistress, his imperial bride.” 
Then briefly thus the Amphrysian seer: 
“No lurking stratagems are here ; 
Dismiss your qualms: the sword we draw 
Imports no breach of Stygian law: 
Still let your porter from his den 
Scare bloodless shades that once were men 
With baying loud and deep: 
Let virtuous Proserpine maintain 
Her uncle’s bed untouched by stain, 
And still his threshold keep. 


204 THE ADNEID. 


Tis Troy’s Aineas, brave and good, 

To see his sire would cross the flood. 

If nought it soften you to see 

Such pure heroic piety, 

This branch at least ”—and here she showed 
The branch within her raiment stowed— 

“ You needs must own.” At once the swell 
Of anger in his bosom fell. 

He answers not, but eyes the sheen 

Of the blest bough, so long unseen, 

Turns round the vessel, dark as ink, 

And brings it to the river’s brink ; 

Then bids the shadowy specters flit 

That up and down the benches sit, 

Frees from its load the bark’s deep womb, 
And gives the great Aineas room. 

Groans the strained craft of cobbled skin, 
And through rent seams the ooze drinks in, 
At length wise seer and hero brave 

Are safely ferried o’er the wave, 

And landed on the further bank, 

’*Mid formless slime and marshweed dank. 


Lo! Cerberus with three-throated bark 
Makes all the region ring, 
Stretched out along the cavern dark 
That fronts their entering. 
The seer perceived his monstrous head 
All bristling o’er with snakes uproused, 
And toward him flings a sop of bread 
With poppy seed and honey drowsed. 
He with his triple jaws dispread 
Snaps up the morsel as it falls, 
Relaxes his huge frame as dead, 
And o’er the cave extended sprawls. 
The sentry thus in slumber drowned, 


BOOK VI. 205 


/Eneas takes the vacant ground, 
And quickly passes from the side 
Of the irremeable tide. 


Hark! as they enter, shrieks arise, 

And wailing great and sore, 

The souls of infants uttering cries 

At ingress of the door, 

Whom, portionless of life’s sweet bliss, 

From mother’s breast untimely torn, 
The black day hurried to the abyss 

And plunged in darkness soon as born. 

Next those are placed whom slander’s breath 
By false arraignment did to death, 
Nor lacks e’en here the law’s appeal, 
Nor sits no judge the lots to deal. 
Sage Minos shakes the impartial urn, 

And calls a court of those below, 
The life of each intent to learn, 

And what the cause that wrought them woe, 
Next comes their portion in the gloom 
Who guiltless sent themselves to doom, 
And all for loathing of the day 
In madness threw their lives away: 

How gladly now in upper air 
Contempt and beggary would they bear, 

And labor’s sorest pain! 

Fate bars the way : around their keep 
The slow unlovely waters creep 
And bind with ninefold chain. 


Next come, wide stretching here and there, 
The Mourning Fields: such name they bear. 
Here those whose being tyrant love 
With slow consumption has devoured 

Dwell in secluded paths, embowered 


906 THE ASNEID. 


-~ 


By shade of myrtle grove. 
Not e’en in death may they forget 
Their pleasing pain, their fond regret. 
Pheedra and Procris here are seen, 
And Eriphyle, hapless queen, 
Still pointing to the death-wound made 
By her fell son’s unbated blade. 
Evadne and Pasiphe too 
Within that precinct meet the view: 
Laodamia there is found, 
And Czenus, woman now, once man, 
Condemned by fate’s recurrent round 
To end where she began. 


*Mid these among the branching treen 
Sad Dido moved, the Tyrian queen, 
Her death-wound bleeding yet and green. 
Soon as Afneas caught the view 
And through the mist her semblance knew, 
Like one who spies or thinks he spies 
Through flickering clouds the new moon rise, 
The teardrop from his eyelids broke, 
And thus in tenderest tones he spoke: 
“ Ah, Dido! rightly then I read 
The news that told me you were dead, 

Slain by your own rash hand! 
Myself the cause of your despair! 
Now by the blessed stars I swear, 
By heaven, by all that dead men keep 
In reverence here ’mid darkness deep, 
Against my will, ill-fated fair, 
I parted from your land. 

The Gods, at whose command to-day 
Through these dim shades I take my way, 
Tread the waste realm of sunless blight, 
And penetrate abyssmal night, 


BOOK VI. 207 


They drove me forth: nor could I know 
My flight would work such cruel woe. 
Stay, stay your steps awhile, nor fly 
So quickly from Aneas’ eye. 
Whom would you shun? this brief space o’er, 
Fate suffers us to meet no more.” 
Thus while the briny tears run down 
The hero strives to calm her frown, 
Still pleading ’gainst disdain: 
She on the ground averted kept 
Hard eyes that neither smiled nor wept, 
Nor bated more of her stern mood 
Than if a monument she stood 
Of firm Marpesian grain. 
At length she tears her from the place, 
And hies her, still with sullen face, 
Into the embowering grove, 
Where her first lord, Sychzeus, shares 
In tender interchange of cares, 
And gives her love for love; 
Eneas tracks her as she flies, 
With bleeding heart and tearful eyes. 


Then on his journey he proceeds : 

And now they gain the furthest meads, 
The place which warriors haunt; 

There sees he Tydeus, and the heir 

Of the Arcadian nymph, and there 
Adrastus pale and gaunt. 

There Trojan ghosts in battle slain, 
Whose dirge was loud in upper sky: 

The chieftain knows the shadowy train, 
And heaves a melancholy sigh: 

Glaucus and Medon there they meet, 
Antenor’s offspring, famed in war, 

Thersilochus, and Polyphete 


208 THE AINEID. 


Who dwelt in Ceres’ hallowed seat, 
And old Ideeus, holding yet 
The armor and the car. 
They cluster round their ancient friend ; 
No single view contents their eye: 
They linger and his steps attend, 
And ask him how he came, and why. 
But Agamemnon’s chivalry, 
When gleaming through the shade 
The hero and his arms they see, 
Are wildered and dismayed : 
Some huddle in promiscuous rout 
As erst at Troy they sought the fleet: 
Some feebly raise the battle-shout ; 
Their straining throat the thin tones flout, 
Unformed and incomplete. 


Now Priam’s son confronts his sight, 

Deiphobus, in piteous plight, 
His body gashed and torn, 

His hands cut off, his comely face 

Seamed o’er with wounds that mar its grace, 
Ears lopped, and nostrils shorn. 

Him, as he cowered, and would conceal 

The ravage of the cruel steel, 

The chief scarce knew: then, soon as known, 

He hails him thus in friendly tone: 

“ Deiphobus armipotent, 

Of mighty Teucer’s high descent, 

What foe has had his will so far 

Your person thus to maim and mar ? 

Fame told me that with slaying tired 
Upon the night of Troy’s last sleep, 
You sank exhausted on a heap 

Of Grecian carnage, and expired. 

Then I upon Rhoetean ground 


BOOK VI. 909 


Upraised an empty funeral mound 

And called your shade thrice o’er. 
Your name, your arms the spot maintain: 
Yourself, poor friend, I sought in vain, 
To give you, ere I crossed the main, 

A tomb on Ilium’s shore.” 
“Nay, gentle friend,” said Priam’s son, 
“Your duty nought has left undone: 
Deiphobus’s dues are paid, 
And satisfied his mournful shade. 
No; ’twas my fate and the foul crime 

Of Sparta’s dame that plunged me here: 
She bade me bear through after-time 

These memories of her dalliance dear. 
In what a dream of false delight 
We Trojans spent our latest night 
You know: nor need I idly tell 
What recollection minds too well. 
When the fell steed with fatal leap 
Sprang o’er Troy’s wall and scaled the steep, 
And brought in its impregnate womb 
The armed host that wrought our doom, 
An orgie dance she chose to feign, 
Led through the streets a matron train, 
And from the turret, torch in hand, 
Gave signal to the Grecian band. 
I, wearied out, had laid my head 
On our unhappy bridal bed, 
Sunk in a lethargy of sleep, 
Most like to death, so calm, so deep. 
Meantime my virtuous wife removed 

All weapons from the house away ; 
My sword, so oft in need approved, 

She took from where the bolster lay: 
Then opes the palace-door, and calls 
Her former lord within the walls, 


4 


210 THE ASNEID. 


Thinking, forsooth, so fair a prize 

Would blind a dazzled lover’s eyes, 

And patriot zeal might thus efface 

The memory of her old disgrace. 

Why lengthen out the tale? they burst 
The chamber-door, that twain accurst, 
olides his comrade, still 

The ready counselor of ill. 

Ye gods, to Greece the like repay, 

If pious are these lips that pray! 

But you, what chance, I fain would know, 
Has led you living down below ? 

Come you by ocean-wanderings driven, 
Or sent by warning voice from heaven ? 
What stress of fortune brings you here 
Through sunless regions, waste and drear ?” 


Thus while they talked, day’s car on high 
Had passed the summit of the sky ; 
And so perchance had worn away 
The period of the travelers’ stay, 

But the good Sibyl thus in brief, 

As comrade might, bespoke the chief: 
« AMneas, night approaches near : 
While we lament, the hours career. 
Here, at the spot where now we stand, 
The road divides on either hand; 

The right, which skirts the walls of Dis, 
Conducts us to the fields of bliss: 

The left gives sinners up to pain, 

And leads to Tartarus’ guilty reign.” 
“Dread seer,” Deiphobus replies, 

“ Forgive, nor let thine anger rise. 
The shadowy circle I complete, 

And seek again my gloomy seat. 

Pass on, proud boast of [lium’s line, 


BOOK VI. 211 


And find a happier fate than mine.” 
Thus he; and as the words he said 
He turned, and in an instant fled. 


Sudden Atneas turns his eyes, 
When ’neath the left-hand cliff he spies 
The bastions of a broad stronghold, 
Engirt with walls of triple fold: 
Fierce Phlegethon surrounds the same, 
Foaming aloft with torrent flame, 

And whirls his roaring rocks: 
In front a portal stands displayed, 
On adamantine columns stayed: 
Nor mortal nor immortal foe 
Those massy gates could overthrow 
_ With battle’s direst shocks. 
An iron tower of equal might 
In air uprises steep: 
Tisiphone, in red robes dight, 
Sits on the threshold day and night 
With eyes that know not sleep. 
Hark! from within there issue groans, 
The cracking of the thong, 
The clank of iron o’er the stones 
Dragged heavily along. 
Afneas halted, and drank in 
With startled ear the fiendish din: 

“ What forms of crime are these?” he cries, 
“ What shapes of penal woe ? 
What piteous wails assault the skies ? 

O maid! I fain would know.” 

“ Brave chief of Troy,” returned the seer, 

“No soul from guilt’s pollution clear 
May yon foul threshold tread: 

But me when royal Hecat make 

Controller of the Avernian shade, 


212 THE ZENEID. 


The realms of torture she displayed, 

And through their horrors led. 
Stern monarch of these dark domains, 
The Gnossian Rhadamanthus reigns : 
He hears and judges each deceit, 

And makes the soul those crimes declare, 
Which, glorying in the empty cheat, 

It veiled from sight in upper air. 
Swift on the guilty, scourge in hand, 

Leaps fell Tisiphone, and shakes 

Full in their face her loathly snakes, 
And calls her sister band. 
Then, nor till then, the hinges grate, 
And slowly opes the infernal gate. 
See you who sits that gate to guard ? 
What presence there keeps watch and ward? 
Within the Hydra’s direr shape 
Sits with her fifty throats agape. 
Then Tartarus with sheer descent 

Dips ’neath the ghost-world twice as deep 
As towers above earth’s continent 

The height of heaven’s Olympian steep. 
Tis there the eldest born of earth, 
The children of Titanic birth, 
Hurled headlong by the lightning’s blast, 
Deep in the lowest gulf are cast. 
Alceus’ sons there met my eyes, 
Twin monsters of enormous size, 
Who stormed the gate of heaven, and strove 
From his high seat to pull down Jove. 
Salmoneus too I saw in chains, 
The victim of relentless pains, 
While Jove’s own flame he tries to mock 
And emulate the thunder-shock. 
By four fleet coursers chariot-borne 
And scattering brands in impious scorn 


BOOK VI. 


Through Elis’ streets he rode, 
All Greece assisting at the show, 
And claimed of fellow-men below 
The honors of a God : 
Fond fool! to think that thunderous crash 
And heaven’s inimitable flash 
Man’s puny craft could counterfeit 
With rattling brass and horsehoofs’ beat. 
Lo! from the sky the Almighty Sire 
The levin-bolt’s authentic fire 
*Mid thickest darkness sped 
(No volley his of pine-wood smoke), 
And with the inevitable stroke 
Despatched him to the dead. 
There too is Tityos the accurst, 
By earth’s all-fostering bosom nurst: 
O’er acres nine from end to end 
His vast unmeasured limbs extend : 
A vulture on his liver preys: 
The liver fails not nor decays: 
Still o’er that flesh, which breeds new pangs, 
With crooked beak the torturer hangs, 
Explores its depth with bloody fangs, 
And searches for her food ; 
Still haunts the cavern of his breast, 
Nor lets the filaments have rest, 
To endless pain renewed. 
Why should I name the Lapith race, 
Pirithous and Ixion base? 
A frowning rock their heads o’ertops, 
Which ever nods and almost drops: 
Couches where golden pillars shine 
Invite them freely to recline, 
And banquets smile before their eyne 
With kingly splendor proud: 
When lo! fell malice in her mien, 


213 


214 THE ANEID. 


seside them lies the Furies’ queen: 
From the rich fare she bars their hand, 
Thrusts in their face her sulphurous brand, 

And thunders hoarse and loud. 

Here those who wronged a brother’s love, 

Assailed a sire’s gray hair, 

Or for a trustful client wove 

A treachery and a snare, 

Who wont on hoarded wealth to brood, 
In sullen selfish solitude, 
Nor called their friends to share the good 

(The most in number they), 

With those whom vengeance robbed of life 
For guilty love of other’s wife, 

And those who drew the unnatural sword, 
Or broke the bond ’twixt slave and lord, 

Await the reckoning-day. 

Ask not their doom, nor seek to know 
What depth receives them there below. 
Some roll huge rocks up rising-ground, 
Or hang, to whirling wheels fast bound : 
There in the bottom of the pit 

Sits Theseus, and will ever sit: 

And Phlegyas warns the ghostly crowd, 
Proclaiming through the shades aloud, 
‘Behold, and learn to practise right, 
Nor do the blessed Gods despite.’ 

This to a tyrant master sold 

His native land for cursed gold, 

Made laws for lucre and unmade: 
That dared his daughter’s bed to climb: 
All, all essayed some monstrous crime, 

And perfected the crime essayed. 
No, had I e’en a hundred tongues, 

A hundred mouths, and iron lungs, 
Those types of guilt I could not show, 


BOOK VI. 915 


\ 


Nor tll the forms of penal woe. 


So spoke the wise Amphrysian dame: 
“ Now to the task for which we came: 
Come, make we speed,” she cries : 
“JT see the work of Cyclop race: 
The archway fronts us, face to face, 
Where 2ustom wills that we should place 
Our precious golden prize.” 
She ended: side by side they pace 
Along the region drear, 
Pass swiftly o’er the mediate space, 
And to the gate draw near. 
Afneas takes the entrance-way, 
Grasps eagerly the lustral spray, 
With pure dew sprinkles limbs and brow, 
And on the door sets up the bough. 


Thus having soothed the queen of Dis, 
They reach the realms of tranquil bliss, 
Green spaces, folded in with trees, 

A paradise of pleasances. 

Around the champaign mantles bright 
The fulness of purpureal light ; 
Another sun and stars they know, 
That shine like ours, but shine below. 
There some disport their manly frames 
In wrestling and palestral games, 
Strive on the grassy sward, or stand 
Contending on the yellow sand : 

Some ply the dance with eager feet 
Aad chant responsive to its beat. 

The priest of Thrace in loose attire 
Makes music on his seven-stringed lyre ; 
The sweet notes ’neath his fingers trill, 
Or tremble neath his ivory quill. 


216 THE ANEID. 


Here dwell the chiefs from Teucer sprung, 
Brave heroes, born when earth was young, 
Ilus, Assaracus, and he 
Who gave his name to Dardany. 
Marveling, Aneas sees from far. 
The ghostly arms, the shadowy car. 
Their spearsare planted in the mead : 
Free o’er the plain their horses feed : 
Whate’er the living found of charms 
In chariot and refulgent arms, 
Whate’er their care to tend and groom 
Their glossy steeds, outlive the tomb. 
Others along the sward he sees 
teclined, and feasting at their ease, 

With chanted Peans, blessed souls, 
Amida fragrant bay-tree grove, 
Whence rising in the world above 
Eridanus ’twixt bowering-trees 

His breadth of water rolls. 


Here sees he the illustrious dead, 
Who fighting for their country bled ; 
Priests, who while earthly life remained 
Preserved that life unsoiled, unstained ; 
Blest bards, transparent souls and clear, 
Whose song was worthy Pheebus’ ear ; 
Inventors, who by arts refined 
The common life of human kind, 

With all who grateful memory won 
3y services to others done : 

A goodly brotherhood, bedight 
With coronals of virgin white. 
There as they stream along the plain 
The Sibyl thus accosts the train, 
Museus o’er the rest, for he 

Stands midmost in that company, 


BOOK VI. 


His stately head and shoulders tall 
O’ertopping and admired of all : 
“ Say, happy souls, and thou, blest seer, 
In what retreat Anchises bides : 
To look on him we journey here, 
Across the dread Avernian tides.” 
And answer to her quest in brief 
Thus made the venerable chief : 
« No several home has each assigned ; 
We dwell where forest pathways wind, 
Haunt velvet banks ’neath shady treen, 
And meads with rivulets fresh and green. 
But climb with me this ridgy hill, 
Yon path shall take you where you will.” 
He said, and led the way, and showed 
The fields of dazzling light : 
They gladly choose the downward road, 
And issue from the height. 


But sire Anchises ’neath the hill 
Was calmly scanning at his will 
The souls unborn now prisoned there, 
One day to pass to upper air ; 
There as he stood, his wistful eye 
Marked all his future progeny, 
Their fortunes and their fates assigned, 
The shape, the mien, the hand, the mind. 
Soon as along the green he spied 
Aneas hastening to his side, 
With eager act both hands he spread, 


And bathed his cheeks with tears, and said : 


« At last ! and are you come at last ? 
Has filial tenderness o’erpast 

Hard toil and peril sore ? 
And may I hear that well-known tone, 
And speak in accents of my own, 


217 


218 THE AINEID. 


And see that face once more ? 
Ah yes! I knew the hour would come: 
I pondered o’er the days’ long sum, 
Till anxious care the future knew : 
And now completion proves it true. 
What lands, what oceans have you crossed ! 
By what a sea of perils tossed ! 
How oft I feared the fatal charm 
Of Libya’s realm might work you harm !” 
But he, “ Your shade, your mournful shade, 
Appearing oft, my purpose swayed 

To visit this far place : 
My ships are moored by Tyrrhene brine : 
O father, link your hand with mine, 

Nor fly your son’s embrace!” 
He said, and sorrow, as he spoke, 
In torrents from his eyelids broke. 
Thrice strove the son his sire to clasp ; 
Thrice the vain phantom mocked his grasp, 
No vision of the drowsy night, 
No airy current, half so light. 


Meantime A£neas in the vale 
A sheltered forest sees, 
Deep woodlands, where the evening gale 
Goes whispering through the trees, 
And Lethe river, which flows by 
Those dwellings of tranquillity. 
Nations and tribes, in countless ranks, 
Were crowding to its verdant banks : 
As bees afield in summer clear 
3esct the flowerets far and near 
And round the fair white lilies pour: 
The deep hum sounds the champaign o’er. 
Eneas, startled at the scene, 
Asks wondering what the noise may mean, 


BOOK VI. 219 


What river this, or what the throng 
That crowds so thick its banks along. 
His sire replies : “ The souls are they 
Whom Fate will reunite to clay : 
There stooping down on Lethe’s brink 
A deep oblivious draught they drink. 
Fain would I muster in review | 
Betore your eyes that shadowy crew, 
That you, their sire, may joy with me 
To think of new-found Italy.” 
“ O father ! and can thought conceive 
The happy souls this realm would leave, 
And seek the upper sky, 
With sluggish clay to reunite ? 
This direful longing for the light, 
Whence comes it, say, and why ?” 
“ Learn, then, my son, no longer pause 
In wonder at the hidden cause,” 
replies Anchises, and withdraws 
The veil before his eye. 


“ Know first, the heaven, the earth, the main, 

The moon’s pale orb, the starry train, 

Are nourished by a soul}, 
A bright intelligence, whose flame 
Glows in each member of the frame 

And stirs the mighty whole. 
Thence souls of men and cattle spring, 
And the gay people of the wing, 
And those strange shapes that ocean hides 
Beneath the smoothness of his tides. 
A fiery strength inspires their lives, 
Anessence that from heaven derives, 
Though clogged in part by limbs of clay; 
And the dull ‘ vesture of decay.’ 
Hence wild desires and groveling fears, 


9290) THE AINEIiD. 


al el 


And human laughter, human tears: 
Immured in dungeon-seeming night, 
They look abroad, yet see no light, 

Nay, when at last the life has fled, 

And left the body cold and dead, 

E’en then there passes not away 

The painful heritage of clay ; 

Full many a long-contracted stain 
Perforce must linger deep in grain 

So penal sufferings they endure 

For ancient crime, to make them pure: 
Some hang aloft in open view 

For winds to pierce them through and austen 
While others purge their guilt deep-dyed 
In burning fire or whelming tide. 

Each for himself, we all sustain 

The durance of our ghostly pain ; 

Then to Elysium we repair, 

The few, and breathe this blissful air: 

Till, many a length of ages past, 

The inherent taint is cleansed at last, 
And nought remains but ether bright, 

The quintessence of heavenly light. 

All these, when centuries ten times told 

The wheel of destiny have rolled, 

The voice divine from far and wide 
Calls up to Lethe’s river-side, 

That earthward they may pass once more 
temembering not the things before, 
And with a blind propension yearn 

To fleshly bodies to return.” 


Anchises spoke, and with him drew 
Afneas and the Sibyl too 
Amid the shadowy throng, 
And mounts a hillock, whence the eye 


BOOK VI. 221 


Might form and countenance descry 
As each one passed along. 
«“ Now listen what the future fame 
Shall follow the Dardanian name, 
What glorious spirits wait 
Our progeny to furnish forth: 
My tongue shall name each soul of worth, 
And show you of your fate. 
See you yon gallant youth advance 
Leaning upon a headless lance ? 
He next in upper air holds place, 
First offspring of the Italian race 
Commixed with ours, your latest child 
By Alban name of Silvius styled, 
Whom to your age Lavinia fair 
In silvan solitude shall bear, 
King, sire of kings, by whom comes down 
Through Trojan hands the Alban crown. 
Nearest to him see Procas shine, 
The glory of Dardania’s line, 
And Numitor and Capys too, 
And one that draws his name from you, 
Silvius Aneas, mighty he 
Alike in arms and piety, 
Should Fate’s high pleasure e’er command 
The Alban scepter to his hand. 
Look how they bloom in youth’s fresh flower! 
What promise theirs of martial power! 
Mark you the civic wreath they wear, 
The oaken garland in their hair ? 
These, these are they, whose hands shall crown 
The mountain heights with many a town, 
Shall Gabii and Nomentum rear, 
There plant Collatia, Cora here, 
And leave to after years their stamp 
On Bola and on Inuus’ camp : 


bo 


29 THE =NEID. 


Names that shall then be far renowned, 
Now nameless spots of unknown ground. 
There to his grandsire’s fortune clings 
Young Romulus, of Mars’ true breed ; 
From Ilia’s womb the warrior springs, 
Assaracus’ authentic seed. 
See on his helm the double crest, 
The token by his sire impressed, 
That marks him out betimes to share 
The heritage of upper air. 
Lo! by his fiat called to birth 
Imperial Rome shall rise, 
Extend her reign to utmost earth, 
Her genius to the skies, 
And with a wall of girdling stone 
Embrace seven hills herself alone— 
Blest in an offspring wise and strong: 
So through great cities rides along 
The mighty Mother, crowned with towers 
Around her knees a numerous line, 
A hundred grandsons, all divine, 
All tenants of Olympian bowers. 


Turn hither now your ranging eye. 
Behold a glorious family, 
Your sons and sons of Rome: 
Lo! Cesar there and all his seed, 
Iulus’ progeny decreed, 
To pass “neath heaven’s high dome. 
This, this is he, so oft the theme 
Of your prophetic fancy’s dream, 
Augustus Cesar, god by birth 3 
Restorer of the age of gold 
In lands where Saturn ruled of old: 
O’er Ind and Garamant extreme 


Shall stretch his reign, that spans the earth. 


BOOK VI. 993 


Look to that land which lies afar, 
Beyond the path of sun or star, 
Where Atlas on his shoulder rears 
The burden of the incumbent spheres. 
Egypt e’en now and Caspia hear 
The muttered voice of many a seer, 
And Nile’s seven mouths, disturbed with fear, 
Their coming conqueror know: 
Alcides in his savage chase 
Ne’er traveled o’er so wide a space. 
What though the brass-hoofed deer he killed, 
And Erymanthus’ forest stilled, 
And Lerna’s depth with terror thrilled 
At twanging of his bow: 
Nor stretched his conquering march so far, 
Who drove his ivy-harnessed car 
From Nysa’s lofty height, and broke 
The tiger’s spirit "neath his yoke. 
And shrink we in this glorious hour 
From bidding worth assert her power, 
Or can our craven hearts recoil 
From settling on Ausonian soil ? 


But who is he at distance seen 
With priestly garb and olive green ? 
That reverend beard, that hoary hair 
The royal sage of Rome declare, 
Who first shall round the city draw | 
The limitary lines of law, 

Called forth from Cures’ petty town 

To bear the burden of a crown. 

Then he whose voice shall break the rest 
That lulled to sleep a nation’s breast, 
And sound in languid ears the cry 

Of Tullus and of victory. 

Then Ancus, all too fain to sail 


994 THE JSNEID. 


E’en now before a favoring gale. 
Say, shall I show you face to face 
The monarchs of Tarquinian race, 
And vengeful Brutus, proud to wring 
The people’s fasces from a king ? 
He first in consul’s pomp shall lift 
The ax and rods, the freeman’s gift, 
And call his own rebellious seed 
For menaced liberty to bleed. 
Unhappy father! howsoe’er 
The deed be judged by after days, 
His country’s love shall all o’erbear, 
And unextinguished thirst of praise. 
There move the Decii, Drusus here, 
Torquatus too with ax severe, 
And great Camillus ; mark him show 
Rome’s standards rescued from the foe! 
But those whom side by side you see 
In equal armor bright, 
Now twined in bonds of amity 
While yet they dwell in night, 
Alas! how terrible their strife, 
If e’er they win their way to life, 
How fierce the shock of war! 
This kinsman rushing to the fight 
From castellated Alpine height, 

That leading his embattled might 
From furthest morning-star ! 
Nay, children, nay, your hate unlearn, 
Nor ’gainst your country’s vitals turn 

The valor of her sons: 
And thou, do thou the first refrain ; 
Cast down thy weapons on the plain, 
Thou, born of Jove’s Olympian strain, 
In whom my life-blood runs! 


BOOK VI. 925 


One, victor in Corinthian war, 
Up Capitol shall drive his car, 
Proud of Achzans slain : 
And one Mycenz shall o’erthrow, 
The city of the Atridan foe, 
And e’en Alacides destroy, 
Achilles’ long-descended boy, 
In vengeance for his sires of Troy, 
And Pallas’ plundered fane. 
Who, mighty Cato, Cossus, who 
Would keep your names concealed ? 
The Gracchi, and the Scipios two, 
The levins of the field, 
Serranus, o’er his furrow bowed, 
Or thee, Fabricius, poor yet proud ? 
Ye Fabii, must your actions done 
The speed of panting praise outrun ? 
Our greatest thou, whose wise delay 
restores the fortune of the day. 
Others, belike, with happier grace 
From bronze or stone shall call the face, 
Plead doubtful causes, map the skies, 
And tell when planets set or rise: 
But, Roman, thou, do thou control 
The nations far and wide: 
Be this thy genius, to impose 
The rule of peace on vanquished foes, 
Show pity to the humbled soul, 
And crush the sons of pride.” 


He ceased ; and ere their awe was o’er, 
Took up his prophecy once more: 
“ Lo, great Marcellus! see him tower 
With kingly spoils, in conquering power, 
The warrior host above! 
He in a day of dire debate 


15 


296 THE AENEID. 


Shall’stablish firm the reeling state, 
The Carthaginian bands o’erride, 
Break down the Gaul’s insurgent pride, 
And the third trophy dedicate 
To Rome’s Feretrian Jove.” 
Then spoke Atneas, who beheld 
Beside the warrior pace 
A youth, full-armed, by none excelled 
In beauty’s manly grace, 
But on his brow was nought of mirth, 
And his fixed eyes were dropped on earth :— 
“Who, father, he, who thus attends 
Upon that chief divine? 
Ilis son, or other who descends 
From his illustrious line ? 
What whispers in the encircling crowd 
The portance of his steps how proud! 
But gloomy night, as of the dead, 
Flaps her sad pinions o’er his head.” 
The sire replies, while down his cheek 
The teardrops roll apace: 
« Ah, son! compel me not to speak 
The sorrows of our race! 
That youth the Fates but just display 
To earth, nor let him longer stay : 
With gifts like these for aye to hold, 
tome’s heart had e’en been overbold. 
Ah! what a groan from Mars’ plain 
Shall o’er the city sound! 
How wilt thou gaze on that long train, 
Old Tiber, rolling to the main 
Beside his new-raised mound ! 
No youth of [lium’s seed inspires 
With hope as fair his Latian sires: 
Nor Rome shall dandle on her knee 
A uursling so adorned as he. 


BOOK VI. 


bo 
bo 
cae | 


O piety! O ancient faith! 
O hand untamed in battle scathe! 
No foe had lived before his sword, 
Stemmed he on foot the war’s red tide 
Or with relentless rowel gored 
His foaming charger’s side. 
Dear child of pity! shouldst thou burst 
The dungeon-bars of Fate accurst, 
Our own Marcellus thou ! 
Bring lilies here, in handfuls bring: 
Their lustrous blooms I fain would fling : 
Such honor to a grandson’s shade 
By grandsire hands may well be paid: 
Yet O! it ’vails not now!” 


’*Mid such discourse, at will they range 
The mist-clad region, dim and strange. 
So when the sire the son had led 
Through all the ranks of happy dead, 
And stirred his spirit into flame 
At thought of centuries of fame, 

With prophet power he next relates 
The war that in the future waits, 
Italia’s fated realm describes, 
Latinus’ town, Laurentum’s tribes, 
And tells him how to face or fly 
Kach cloud that darkens o’er his sky.— 
Sleep gives his name to portals twain: 
One all of horn, they say, 
Through which authentic specters gain 
Quick exit into day, 
And one which bright with ivory gleams. 
Whence Pluto sends delusive dreams. 
Conversing still, the sire attends 
The travelers on their road, 
And through the ivory portal sends 


228 THE NEID. 


From forth the unseen abode. 
The chief betakes him to the fleet, 
Well pleased again his crew to meet: 
Then to Caieta’s port set sail, 

Straight coasting by the strand : 
The anchors from the prow they hale: 

The sterns are turned to land. 


BOOK VII. 


BOOK Vii. 


229 


ARGUMENT.— King Latinus entertains A‘neas, and 
promises him his only daughter, Lavinia, the heiress of 
his crown. Turnus, being in love with her, favored by 
her mother, and stirred up by Juno and Alecto, breaks 
the treaty which was made, and engages in his quarrel 
Mezentius, Camilla, Messapus, and many other of the 
neighboring princes, whose forces, and the names of 


their commanders, are particularly related. 


Tuovu too, Atneas’ nurse of yore, 

In death hast glorified our shore, 
Caieta, honored dame: 

Still memory haunts thy place of rest: 

Marked by thy name, thy relics blest 

In the great country of the west 
Repose—if that be fame. 

But good Asneas, soon as paid 

Due tribute to the well-loved shade 
And funeral mound upreared, 

Waits till the seas grow calm at eve, 

Then spreads his sail, constrained to leave 
The haven, thus endeared. 

The breezes freshen toward the night, 
Nor doth the moon refuse 

Her guiding lamp: its tremulous light 
The glancing deep bestrews. 

Next, skirting still the shore, they run 
Fair Circe’s magic coast along, 

Where ‘she, bright daughter of the sun, 
Her forest fastness thrills with song, 

And for a nightly blaze consumes 

Rich cedar in her stately rooms, 


9230 THE NEID. 


While, sounding shrill, the comb is sped 
From end to end adown the thread. 
Thence hear they many a midnight roar: 
The lion strives to burst his cell: 
The raging bear, the foaming boar 
Alternate with the gaunt wolf’s yell: 
Whom from the human form divine 
For malice’ sake the ruthless queen 
Had changed by pharmacy malign 
To bristly hide and bestial mien. 
So lest the pious Trojan train 
Such dire enormity sustain, 
The harbor should they reach, or land 
On that inhospitable strand, 
The Ocean-god inflates their sails 
With breath of favorable gales, 
And speeds their flight, and bears them safe 
Where angry waves no longer chafe. 


The sea was reddening with the dawn: 
The queen of morn on high 
Was seen in rosy chariot drawn 
Against a saffron sky, 
When on the bosom of the deep 
The Zephyrs dropped at once to sleep, 
And, struck with calm, the tired oars strain 
Against the smooth unmoving main. 
Now from the deep Afneas sees 
A mighty grove of glancing trees. 
Embowered amid the silvan scene 
Old Tiber winds his banks between, 
And in the lap of ocean pours 
His gulfy stream, his sandy stores. 
Around, gay birds of diverse wing, 
Accustomed there to fly or sing, 
Were fluttering on from spray to spray 


BOOK VII. 


And soothing ether with their lay. 
He bids his comrades turn aside 

And landward set each vessel’s head, 
And enters in triumphant pride 

The river’s shadowy bed. 


Be with me, Goddess, while I tell 
What chiefs bore rule, what deeds befell, 
What Latium’s early time, before 
The stranger landed on her shore, 
And wake the memory of the feud 
Which first her arms in blood imbued. 
O be the poet’s guide, and aid 
His recollection, heavenly maid! 

I sing of war’s tempestuous tide, 

Of kings who perished in their pride, 
The Tyrrhene chivalry, and all 
Hesperia roused by battle’s call. 

A loftier task the bard essays: 

The horizon broadens on his gaze. 


Latinus, old at length and gray 
O’er town and realm held peaceful sway, 
Born of a nymph of Latian race 
From kingly Faunus’ loved embrace. 
Picus was Faunus’ sire ; and he, 
Great Saturn, owes his birth to thee. 
No manly heir, so Heaven decreed, 
Preserved in life the royal seed ; 
F’en as it rose, in youth’s fair day 
That progeny was reft away. 
One daughter stood to guard the throne, 
To bridal age already grown: 
Full many a prince from Latian land 
And all Ausonia sought her hand, 
Young Turnus chief, to kings allied 


231 


239 THE ANEID. 


And comelier far than all beside, 
Much favored of the queen, who strove 
With earnest zeal to speed his love: 
But prodigies with dire alarms 
Deny the maiden to his arms. 
Within the palace’ center bred 

An ancient tree of laurel stood : 
Long years of reverential dread 

Had gathered round its sacred wood: 
Men say ’twas by Latinus found 
When first he traced the castle’s bound : 
He reared it from his native sod, 
Devoted to the Delphian god, 
And taught his settlers thence to claim 
For their new town Laurentum’s name. 
To its high top a swarm of bees 
Came warping on the summer breeze: 
And, linking feet with feet, they sway 
In pendent cluster from the spray. 
“« A stranger comes,” exclaimed the seer, 
“ A foreign host: I see them near: 
The same the quarter of their flight, 
The same the region where they light: 
E’en now in plenitude of power 
They hold the city’s topmost tower.” 
Then too, as standing by her sire 
Lavinia tends the altar-fire, 
Her tresses—prodigy untold— 
Catch the fierce flame with eager hold, 
And on her beauteous head-tire preys 
The crackling stream of torrent blaze. 
Her royal locks are all alight, 
Her coronal with jewels bright : 
Till, wrapt in smoke and glare, she showers 
Live sparkles through the palace bowers. 
With mingled wonder and affright 


BOOK VII. 


The boding seers proclaimed the sight : 
Her fame, they said, should proudly blaze 
A streaming light to after days, 

But dim should be the nation’s star, 
O’erclouded by a mighty war. 


The king, by prodigies distraught, 
His father Faunus’ temple sought, 
A sacred grove displayed to sight 
Beneath Albunea’s frowning height, 
Which echoes with a brawling stream, 
And breathes aloft sulphurous steam. 
Hither Cnotria’s tribes repair, 
To seek Heaven’s help in man’s despair: 
Then, when the minister divine 
Has placed the offering on the shrine, 
And, seeking sleep, at midnight lain 
On the stripped skins of cattle slain, 
Strange shapes before his eyes appear, 
Strange voices whisper in his ear; 
He communes with the sons of bliss, 
Or talks with Acheron’s dark abyss. 
So now, when king Latinus came 
His parent god’s response to claim, 
A hundred sheep he slew, and lay 
Stretched on their wool till night’s decay, 
When sudden from the grove’s deep gloom 
Burst on his ear the voice of doom: 
« Ambition not, my son, to pair 
With Latian prince thy royal heir, 
Nor satisfy an easy quest 
With nuptial bowers already drest : 
Lo! foreign bridegrooms come, whose fame 
To heaven shall elevate our name : 
The sons who from their loins have birth 
Shall see one day the whole broad earth, 


233 


234 THE NEID. 


From main to main, from pole to pole, 
Beneath them bow, beneath them roll.” 
These words, at night’s still hour addrest, 
Latinus locks not in his breast : 

Along Ausonia’s countryside 

The voice of fame had spread them wide 
Already when the Trojans moored 

Their fleet on Tiber’s river-board. 


neas and the chiefs of Troy, 
And Ilium’s hope, the princely boy, 
Their weary limbs at leisure laid 
Under a tree’s alluring shade, 
Set forth the banquet, and bespread 
The sward beneath with cakes of bread 
(Jove gave the thought), and heap with store 
Of wilding fruit their wheaten floor. 
So when, all else consumed, at last 
The failure of their scant repast 
Compelled the wanderers to devour 
Their slender garniture of flour, 
Attack the fated round, nor spare 
The impress of the sacred square, 
“ What! eating up our boards beside? ” 
In merry vein Iulus cried. 
That word at once dissolved the spell: 
The father caught it as it fell, 
With warning look all utterance stilled, 
And marveled at the sign fulfilled. 
Then “ Hail, auspicious land,” he cries, 

“So long from Fate my due! 
All hail, ye Trojan deities, 
To Trojan fortunes true! 

At length we rest, no more to roam: 
Here is our country, here our home. 
For well I mind, my sire of old 


BOOK VII. 


This secret of the future told : 
¢‘Whene’er on unknown shores you eat 
Your very boards for lack of meat, 
Then count your home already found: 
There build your town and bank it round? 
Ay, this the lack his words forecast, 
And these the horrors of that fast, 
Which waited all the while, to close 
Our dreary catalogue of woes. 
Come then, and with the morrow’s ray 
Explore we each his diverse way, 
The natives who, and what the place, 
And where the city of the race. 
Now with full cups libation pour 
To mighty Jove, whom all adore, 
Invoke Anchises’ blessed soul, 
And once again set on the bowl.” 
Thus having said, he wreaths his brow 
With cincture of a leafy bough, 
Invokes the Genius of the spot, 
And Earth, of Gods the first begot, 
The Nymphs and Floods as yet unknown, 
And Night and Stars that gem her throne, 
And Ida’s monarch Jove, 
And the great Mother, Phrygia’s fear, 
And last, his own two parents dear, 
One nether, one above. 
Thrice, as he prayed, from azure skies 
The Thunderer pealed aloud, 
And flushing shook before their eyes 
A red and golden cloud. 
Through Ilium’s ranks the flame flies fast, 
The day has come shall found at last 
Their city’s promised towers : 
Exulting in the mighty sign, 
They spread the board, set on the wine, 


236 THE ASNEID. 


And crown the cup with flowers. 


Soon as the morn at earliest birth 
Diffused her luster o’er the earth, 
Each by a different path explores 
The town, the frontier, and the shores: 
And here they find Numicius’ spring, 
Here Tiber flows, here dwells the king. 
This done, the monarch’s grace to gain, 
Eneas sends a goodly train, 

A hundred chiefs of each degree, 

With wool-wreathed boughs from Pallas’ tree, 

Rich presents to their hand commends, 

And bids them crave the dues of friends. 

At once the ambassadors obey : 

Their hasty steps despatch the way. 

Himself with narrow trench defines 

The ramparts’ meditated lines, 

And camp-like girds his city round 

With palisade and sloping mound. 

And now the chiefs, the way o’ercome, 
Before them rising tall 

See roofs and towers, the Latins’ home, 
And pass beneath the wall. 

Before the town the youth at play 

In mimic contests speed the day, 

Direct the rapid car, or train 

The courser on the dusty plain, 

With vigor bend the pliant bow, 

Or to its mark the javelin throw, 

Ply the swift foot, or plant the blow ; 

When riding up in full career 

A herald to the monarch’s ear 

teports that valiant chiefs are here, 

Attired in garb unknown: 

He, hearing, gives the word to call 


la-e oxtail 


BOOK VIL. 237 


The strangers to the audience-hall, 
And seats him on his throne. 


Upon the city’s highest ground, 
With hundred columns compassed round, 
There rose a fane sublime ; 
*T was Picus’ palace long ago, 
And sacred woods around it throw 
The awe of elder time. 
Tfere wont the monarchs to receive 
The royal staff, the fasces heave, 
An omen of their reign : 
Here met the council of debate, 
Here on high days the seniors sate 
At lengthening tables ranged in state 
To feast on cattle slain. 
There, formed of ancient cedar wood, 
A line of old forefathers stood ; 
Ifere Italus, Sabinus here, 
Who taught them first the vine to rear 
(The mimic semblance still preserved 
The hook for pruning deftly curved) ; 
There ancient Saturn holds his place, 
And Janus with his double face, 
And many another hoary king 
E’en from the nation’s earliest spring, 
And many a warrior, strong and brave, 
Who poured his blood his land to save. 
There too were spoils of bygone wars 
Hung on the portals, captive cars, 
Strong city-gates with massy bars, 
And hbattle-axes keen, 
And plumy cones from helmets shorn, 
And beaks from vanquished vessels torn, 
And darts, and bucklers sheen. 
There with his bowed augurial wand 


238 THE ASNBID. 


And scanty robe with purple band, 
The sacred buckler in his hand, 

Sat Picus, horseman king, 
Who stirred of old the jealous flame 
Of Circe, wonder- working dame, 
And by her potent drugs became 

A bird of dappled wing. 
Such was the fane within whose walls 
The king enthroned the Trojans calls, 
And, thronging round him as they stand, 
With tranquil mien accosts the band : 


“Say, Dardans, for we know your name, 
Nor sail ye hither strange to Fame, 
What need has power to waft you o’er 
Such length of seas to this our shore ? 
If stress of wind, or way mista’en, 

Or other suffering on the main, 

Mas made you thread our stream, and moor 
Your vessels from its pleasant shore, 
Disdain not this our Latin cheer, 

But know the race to Saturn dear, 

Not righteous by constraint or fear, 
But freely virtuous, self-controlled 

By memory of the age of gold. 

Ay, now I mind, in earlier day 
Auruncan elders wont to say 

"Twas hence that Dardanus your king 
For Phrygian land of old took wing, 
And reached the towns at Ida’s base 
And northern Samos, styled of Thrace: 
From Corythus he went, and now 

He suns him on Olympus’ brow, 

And when to heaven our altars fume, 
’*Mid other powers he claims his room.” 


BOOK VII. 939 


“Great King,” Ilioneus made reply, 
“ Sage Faunus’ princely progeny, 
We come not to your friendly coast 
By random gale o’er ocean tost, 
Nor land nor star has made us stray 
From our determined line of way: 
Of steady purpose one and all 
We flock beneath your city wall, 
Driven from an empire, greater none 
Within the circuit of the sun. 
Jove is our sire: to Jove’s high race 
We, Dardans born, our lineage trace : 
Jove’s seed, the monarch we obey, 
Eneas, sends us here to-day. 
How fierce a storm from Argos sent 
On Ida’s plains its fury spent, 
How Fate in dire collision hurled 
The eastern and the western world, 
E’en he has heard, whom earth’s last verge 
Just separates from the circling surge, 
And he who, to his kind unknown, 
Dwells midmost ’neath the torrid zone. 
Swept by that deluge o’er the foam 
For our lorn gods we ask a home: 
A belt of sand is all we crave, 
And man’s free birthright, air and wave. 
We shall not shame your Latin crown, 
Nor light shall be your own renown, 
Nor time obliterate the debt, 
Nor Italy the hour regret 
When Troy with outstretched arms she met. 
I swear it by Aneas’ fate, 
By that right hand which makes him great, 
In peace and war approved alike 
A friend to aid, a foe to strike, 
Full oft have mighty nations—nay, 


IA() THE AENEID. 


Disdain not that unsought we pray, 

Nor deem that wreaths and lowly speech 
The grandeur of our name impeach— 
Full oft with zeal and earnest prayers 
Have nations wooed us to be theirs ; 


But Heaven’s high fate, with stern command, 


Impelled us still to this your land. 
Here Dardanus was born, and here 
Apollo bids our race return: 
To Tyrrhene Tiber points the seer 
And pure Numicius’ hallowed urn. 
These presents too our hands convey, 
Scant relics of a happier day, 
From burning Tlium snatched away. 
From this bright gold before the shrine 
His sire Anchises poured the wine ; 
With these adornments Priam sate 
"Mid gathered crowds in kingly state, 
The scepter and the diadem : 
Troy’s women wrought the vesture’s hem.” 


Thus, as Ilioneus moves his suit, 
Latinus’ face is fixed and mute ; 
He sits as rooted to the ground, 
And turns his eyes in wonder round. 
Not Priam’s crown nor purple wrought 
So deeply stirs his princely thought : 
His daughter’s bed—on that he dwells, 
And Faunus’ riddle spells and spells: 
Ay, this the chief the Fates prepare 
From foreign parts his throne to share, 
And hence the warrior race, whose sway 
Should make a subject world obey. 
At length with gladness he exclaims : 
“Speed, gracious Heaven, a parent’s aims 
And thine own sign! I grant your prayer, 


—_—_—_ 


BOOK VIL 941 


Kind guest, nor scorn the gifts you bear. 
You shall not lack, while mine the throne, 
Rich soil and plenty like your own. 
Let but Mneas, if he feel 
For us and ours so warm a zeal, 
Would he be friend and firm ally, 
Approach, nor shun our kindly eye: 
For know, that treaty may not stand 
Where king greets king and joins not hand. 
Now list, and to your monarch take 
What further answer here I make. 
A maiden child is mine, whose hand 
May mate with none of this our land: 
Thus Heaven declares with many a sign, 
And voices from my father’s shrine: 
Our fate, they say, has yet in store 
A bridegroom from a foreign shore, 
Whose mingling blood shall raise our name 
Above the empyrean frame. 
That he, your chief, is Fortune’s choice, 
So speaks my heart, my hope, my voice.” 
He ceased, and bade be brought for all 
Fleet horses from his royal stall: 
Three hundred in the stable stood 
With glossy coat and fiery blood :— 
The servants hear, and straightway lead 
For every chief a gallant steed: 
A purple cloak each courser decks, 
And golden poitrels grace their necks: 
For Venus’ son the monarch’s care 
Provides a car and princely pair, 
Twin horses of ethereal seed, 

Their nostrils breathing flames of fire, 
Derived from that clandestine breed 

By Circe stolen from her sire. 
So, cheered with gifts and courteous phrase, 


16 


249 THE AINEID. 


The Trojans take their homeward ways, 
And, mounted as they ride, report 
A friendly welcome from the court. 


Meantime from Argos journeying 
The consort of the almighty King, 
O’er far Pachynus as she flies, 
Looks down in prospect from the skies: 
She sees them in their hour of joy, 
/Eneas and the crews of Troy: 
Already at their walls they toil, 
And trust them to the friendly soil, 
And leave the fleet behind: 
She halts, by keenest anguish stung, 
Shakes her dark brows, and thus gives tongue 
To her infuriate mind : 
“ O thrice abhorred, accursed brood ! 
O Phrygian fates, with mine at feud! 
And fell they on Sigean plain 
Those all innumerable slain ? 
And were the captives truly ta’en, 
And were the bondmen bound ? 
The flame that fell on Ilium’s tower, 
Say, could it Ilium’s sons devour ? 
Through circling fires and steely shower 
Their passage have they found. 
Ay, sooth, my arts have spent their strength 3 
My hate, full gorged, has slept at length— 
I, who could hound them o’er the foam 
When tossed and shaken from their home: 
On every sea, “neath every sky, 
Where’er they turned them, there was I. 
The armories of air and main 
Were loosed on Troy, and loosed in vain. 
What vantaged me those powers of hurt, 
Charybdis, Scylla, and the Syrt? 


BOOK VII. 


In Tiber’s port they ride at ease 

And laugh at Juno and her seas. 

Yet Mars could sweep from earth’s wide face 
All vestige of the Lapith race: 

Old Calydon the eternal Sire 
Surrendered to Dianna’s ire: 

What sin so grievous had they done, 
The Lapith race or Calydon ? 

But I, the Thunderer’s awful bride, 
Who left, poor wretch, no art untried, 
Who dared a thousand arms to wield, 
Must yield, and to Atneas yield. 

If strength like mine be yet too weak, 

I care not whose the aid I seek : 

What choice ’twixt under and above ? 
If Heaven be firm, the shades shall move. 
Grant that I cannot bar the way 

That leads him to his Latian sway, 
That fixed in destiny must stand 

The promise of Lavinia’s hand ; 

Yet just it were events so great 

For slow accomplishment should wait 3 
Yet may I make the monarchs twain 
Each mourner for a nation slain. 

So let them give and take them wives, 
The wedding’s cost their people’s lives. 
Behold your marriage dower, fair maid! 
In Latium’s blood, and Troy’s ’tis paid: 
Bellona at the appointed hour 

Shall light you to your bridal bower. 
Not Hecuba the only dame 

Whose womb was quick with nuptial flame: 
In the dear son that Venus bore 

Paris shall come to life once more, 

A torch rekindled to destroy 

H’en now the second birth of Troy.” 


243 


944 THE ANEID. 


This said, with vengeance in her eyes 
From heaven to earth the Goddess flies, 
And from the Furies’ Stygian halls 
Alecto’s baleful presence calls, 

To whom grim war and jealous strife 
And treacheries are the breath of life. 
E’en Pluto hates his offspring, e’en 

Her sister fiends the monster dread, 
So multiform her hideous mien, 

So thick the serpents round her head. 
Whom Juno then for aid entreats 
With words that kindle fiercer heats : 
“ Vouchsafe me, virgin child of Night, 
This boon for my peculiar right, 

A service all thine own, 
Lest Juno’s praise and worship fall 
From their exalted pedestal, 
Should Troy Italia’s bounds beset 
And weave her hymenzal net 

About Latinus’ throne. 
Thou canst in hostile arms array 

Two brothers of one will, 
With rancorous hate and burning fray 

A peaceful homestead fill : 
Scourges are thine and funeral flames: 
Thou gloriest in a thousand names, 

A thousand means of ill. 
Stir up thy breast, with malice rife, 
Break the formed league, sow seeds of strife: 
Let youth and age with one accord 
Desire, demand, and seize the sword.” 


Then, steeped in venom’s direst gall, 
Alecto spreads her wing 
For Latium and the stately hall 
Of the Laurentian king, 


BOOK VII. 245 


Alights, and sits her down before 

Amata’s silent chamber-door : 

Who, musing on the new-come host 

And Turnus’ hopes malignly crossed, 

Was seething o’er, unhappy queen, 

With woman’s passion, woman’s spleen. 

The Goddess snatched a serpent, bred 

Mid the dark ringlets of her head, 
And hurled it at the dame, 

That she, made frantic by the smart 

Deep working in her inmost heart, 
Might set the house on flame. 

In glides the snake, unfelt, unseen, 

Thin robe and ivory breast between, 

And breathing in its poisonous breath, 

Enwraps her in a dream of death : 

Now with her golden necklace blends, 

Now from her fillet’s length depends, 

With serpent gold her tresses binds, 

And smoothly round her person winds. 

So, when the viprous influence 

Is first distilling o’er the sense, 

Nor yet the soul has caught entire 

The fever of contagious fire, 

Gently, as mother might, she speaks, 

The hot tears rolling down her cheeks, 

Tears for her hapless daughter shed 

And Phrygia’s hated bridal bed: 

« And shall a Dardan fugitive, 

O father, with Lavinia wive ? 

And will you not compassion take 

For daughter’s, sire’s, or mother’s sake? 

Ah, well I know, the first fair gale 

Shall see the faithless pirate sail, 

And bear from home the weeping maid 

The prize of his triumphant raid. 


246 THE ASNEID. 


Not thus, forsooth, the Phrygian swain 
Made stealthy progress o’er the main, 

To Sparta won his way, and bore 

Fair Helen to the Idgan shore. 

Where now your sacred promise ? where 
The love you wont your own to bear, 

Or where that hand, whose friendly grasp 
The hand of Turnus oft would clasp? 

If nought will serve for Latium’s need 
But bridegroom sprung from foreign seed, 
And father Faunus’ solemn hest 

Sits heavy on your anxious breast, 

All climes that own not our command, 

So read I Fate, are foreign land. 

And Turnus, if inquiry trace 

The first beginnings of his race, 

Counts with his grandsires Argive kings, 
And from Mycene’s midmost springs.” 


But when, essaying oft, she sees 

Latinus proof against her pleas, 
And now the deadly poison thrills 
Her veins, and all the woman fills, 
Then, maddened with its furious heats, 
She rages through the crowded streets, 
Like top that whirling ’neath the thong 
Is scourged by eager boys along 

Bent on their gamesome strife : 
With eddying motion it careers 
Round empty courts in circling spheres $ 
The beardless troop in strange amaze 
Upon the winged boxwood gaze ; 

The lashes lend it life. 
So wildly, furiously she flies 
Through peopled towns ’neath wolfish eyes. 
Nay more, with fiercer frenzy spurred, 


d 


BOOK VII. Q47 


She feigns herself by Bacchus stirred, 
Betakes her to the woods, and hides 
The maid in leafy mountain-sides, 
To balk the Trojans and delay 
The dreaded hymenzal day : 
And “ Evoe Bacchus! thou alone ” 
(So shrills her wild ecstatic tone) 

“ Art worthy of the fair: 

For thee she wields the ivied wand, 
For thee leads forth the dancers’ band, 
For thee she tends her hair.” 

Swift flies the heraldry of fame, 
And many another frenzied dame 
Comes forth, her spirit all on flame 
A new abode to seek : 
Their ancient homes they leave behind, 
Spread hair and shoulders to the wind, 
Or clad in skins from fawns new doffed 
Their vine-branch javelins raise aloft, 
With shrill ear-piercing shriek. 
She in the midst with frantic hand 
Uplifts a blazing pinewood brand, 
And hymns aloud in solemn lay 
Her child and Turnus’ marriage day ; 
Then rolling red her bloodshot eyes, 
“Ho, Latian mothers!” fierce she cries, 
“Give ear, where’er ye be: 
If, still to poor Amata kind, 
A mother’s wrongs ye bear in mind, 
The fillet from your brows unbind, 
And rove the woods with me.” 
Thus, armed with Bacchus’ handspears keen, 
Alecto goads the ill-starred queen, 
And drives her far from home of men, 
’*Mid silvan haunt and wild-beast’s den, 


248 THE ASNEID. 


So when she sees the seeds of ill 
Have thriven obedient to her will, 
The royal house, the royal thought, 
Alike to dire contusion brought, 
On dusky wings the Goddess flies 
Where the bold Daunian’s ramparts rise, 
The town which Danz built of yore, 
By headlong tempest blown ashore. 
Ardea the name that bygone race 
Bestowed upon their dwelling-place, 
And Ardea’s name is honored yet, 
But Ardea’s sun in gloom is set. 
There in his home at midnight deep 
Was Turnus lying wrapped in sleep. 
At once the crafty fiend lays by 
All signs of baleful deity : 
No fury now, she makes her own 
The likeness of a wrinkled crone, 
Binds with a fillet tresses gray, 
And twines them round with olive spray : 
She stands transformed to Calybe, 
Priestess of Juno’s temple she, 
And thus in simulated guise 
Presents her to the warrior’s, eyes: 
“Can Turnus rest and see his pain, 
His generous toil bestowed in vain ? 
Lie still and see his kingly sway 
To Dardan settlers signed away ? 
Latinus robs you of the fair, 
Withholds perforce her blood-bought dower, 
And searches out a foreign heir 
To throne him in the seat of power. 
Go, fight your fights that win no thanks, 
Seek scorn amid the embattled field ; 
Go, mow them down, the Tuscan ranks, 
And Latium’s tribes with safety shield 


BOOK VII. 249 


These words Saturnia bade me shrill 

In your drowsed ear when all was still. 
Come, sound the glad alarm, and call 
The youth to arms without the wall; 
Consume the Phrygian ships, that ride 
At anchor in our pleasant tide: 

Tis Heaven’s high will that gives command, 
And prompts to fight your ready hand. 
Nay, let Latinus’ self, if yet 

He grudged the fair, nor own his debt, 
From late experience learn, and feel 

The might of Turnus, sheathed in steel.” 


With scornful laughter in his eye 
The haughty youth thus made reply: 
“ The fleet arrived in Tiber’s stream 
Has not escaped me, as you deem : 
Why feign these terrors? well I ween 
Turnus is watched by Juno queen: 
*Tis you, good dame, effete and old, 
Whom purblind age, o’ergrown with mold, 
Bemocks with visions of alarms 
Amid the clang of monarchs’ arms. 
Yours is the task to tend the shrine 
And make your image look divine ; 
But leave to men, whose care they are, 
The mysteries of peace and war.” 


These taunts enkindled into fire 
The furnace of Alecto’s ire. 
Or ere he ceased, a trembling takes 
His frame ; his eyes are fixed as stone; 
So dire the hissing of her snakes, 
So ghastly grim the features shown ; 
She thrusts him back with angry glare 
As, faltering, further speech he tries, 


950 THE A NEID. 


Uprears two serpents from her hair, 
And cracks her scorpion whip, and cries: 
“ Behold the dame, grown o’er with mold, 
Whom Dotage, impotent and old, 
Bemocks with visions of alarms 
Amid the clang of monarchs’ arms! 
My home is with the infernal king, 
And death and war in hand I bring.” 


A firebrand at the youth she throws: 

Lodged in his breast the pinewood glows. 
With lurid light and dim: 

A giant terror breaks his sleep, 

And, bursting forth, big sweat-drops steep 
His body, bone and limb. 

“ My sword! my sword!” he madly shrieks ; 

His sword he through the chamber seeks 
And all the mansion o’er ; 

Burns the fierce fever of the steel, 

The guilty madness warriors feel, 
And jealous wrath yet more : 

As when piled high a caldron round 

The wood-fire sends a crackling sound, 

And makes the waters start and bound, 

In wild turmoil with smoke and steam 

Seethes, hisses, froths the imprisoned stream, 

Till the vexed wave o’erleaps control, 

And vaporous clouds to heaven uproll : 

So, proudly trampling treaties down, 

He sounds a march to Latium’s town: 

To king Latinus he will go, 

Protect the realm, expel the foe : 

Through Latium’s force unite with Troy’s, 

Himself will bring the counterpoise. 

This said, to Heaven he makes appeal : 

The Rutule hosts with emulous zeal 


BOOK VII. 251 


Their martial rage inflame : 
And one the chief’s young beauty fires, 
One kindles at his hero sires, 

One at his deeds of fame. 


While Turnus thus to fury fans 
The Rutules’ warlike might, 
Alecto on her Stygian vans 
Turns to Troy’s camp her flight. 
New cunning in her breast, a place 
She in the distance eyed, 
Where young Iulus led the chase 
Along the river-side : 
Then sudden to his hounds’ keen smell 
Presents the lure they know so well, 
A gallant stag to start: 
’T was thence a nation’s sorrow flowed, 
And kindling into madness glowed 
The savage rustic heart. 
Of beauteous form and branching head 
A stag in human haunts was bred, 
From mother’s milk withdrawn, 
By Tyrrheus and his children reared, 
Tyrrheus, who ruled the royal herd, 
The ranger of the lawn. 
Fair Silvia, daughter of the race, 
Its horns with wreaths would interlace, 
Comb smooth its shaggy coat, and lave 
Its body in the crystal wave. 
Tame and obedient, it would stray 
Free through the woods a summer’s day, 
And home again at night repair 
F’en of itself, how late soe’er. 
So now ’twas wandering when the pack 
Gave tongue and followed on its track, 
As sheltered from the noontide beam 


952 THE AINEID. 


It floated listless down the stream. 
Ambition fired Ascanius too ; 
The shaft he aimed, the bow he drew: 
Fate guides his hand: with whirring speed 
Through flank and belly flies the reed. 
Homeward the wounded creature fled, 
Took refuge in the well-known shed, 
And bleeding, crying as for aid, 
Through all the house its moaning made. 
With flat hand smiting on each arm 
Poor Silvia gives the first alarm, 
And ealls the rural folk : 
They—for the fury-pest unseen 
Is lurking in the woodland green— 
Or ere she deems, are close at hand ; 
One grasps a charred and hardened brand, 
And one a knotted oak : 
Whate’er the seeker’s haste may find 
Does weapon’s work for fury blind. 
Stout Tyrrheus, as he splits in four 
With wedge on wedge a tree’s tough core, 
Leaps forth, his hatchet stil in hand, 
And, breathing rage, arrays his band. 
The Goddess from her vantage tower 
Perceives, and seizes mischief’s hour, 
Flies to the summit of the stall, 
And thence shrills out the shepherd’s call, 
With harsh Tartarean voice in air 
Pitching on high the horn’s hoarse blare. 
That sound the forest line convulsed : 
The long vibration throbbed and pulsed 
Through all the depth of wood ; 
*T was heard by Trivia’s lake afar, 
Heard by the sulphurons waves of Nar 
And Velia’s fountain flood ; 
And terror-stricken mothers pressed 


BOOK VII. 2953 


Their children closer to their breast. 


Now, gathering at the hideous sound, 
The rustics from the country round, 
Snatch up their arms and run: 
The Trojan youth, their gates displayed, 
Stream forth to give Ascanius aid, 
And battle is begun. 
No longer now ’tis village feud, 
Waged with seared stakes and truncheons rude 
Another game they try: 
Tis two-edged iron: swords and spears 
Bristle the field with spiky ears: 
Responsive to the sun’s appeal 
Flash glittering brass and burnished steel, 
And fling their rays on high: 
As when beneath the wind’s first sweep 
The white foam gathers on the deep, 
The waters gradual rise, 
Tigh and more high the billows grow, 
Till from the very depth below 
They mount into the skies. 
Young Almo, Tyrrheus’ heir till then, 
Falls mid the foremost fighting men, 
By whizzing shaft laid low: 
Deep in his gullet lodged the death 
And choked the ways of voice and breath 
With life-blood’s gushing flow: 
Around him many a warrior bleeds, 
And old Galzesus, as he pleads 
In vain for peace: no juster son 
Had fair Ausonia, richer none: 
Kach night within his cotes were penned 
Five flocks of sheep, five herds of cows, 
And his broad lands from end to end 
Were furrowed by a hundred plows. 


954 THE ANEID. 


While these are killing thus and killed, 
The fiend, her promise now fulfilled, 
Soon as the first hot blood is drawn 
And war in thunder ’gins to dawn, 

Up from Hesperia flies, 
And riding on the rack of cloud, 
Thus with triumphant voice and proud 
To mighty Juno cries: 
“ Behold, ’tis finished! strife full-blown 
Has issued forth in fight: 
Now bid the hosts their hate atone 
And friendly treaty plight. 
The hands of Troy, thou seest, are dyed 
Deep in Ausonian blood ; 
A guerdon I will add beside, 
If so thy will holds good: 
The neighboring cities I will fill 
With thick-sown rumors rife, 
And wake in each unruly will 
The frantic lust of strife, 
Till aid they bring from every side, 
And battle’s seeds be scattered wide.” 
Juno returns: “ Enough is spread 
Of treachery and panic dread : 
The roots of war are firmly set: 
The fight is raging hilt to hilt: 
The arms that chance supplied are wet 
With taint of carnage newly spilt. 
Such be the hymenzeal ties 
That Venus’ son shall solemnize 
With Latium’s easy king! 
For thee, heaven’s monarch may not bear 
That longer thou in upper air 
Shouldst ply thine errant wing. 
Give place: if further chance betide, 
Myself the circumstance will guide.” 


BOOK VII. 


Saturnia spoke: the Fury spread 

Her serpent wings for flight, 
Dives to the regions of the dead, 

And leaves the upper light. 
In mid Italia les a place 
Retiring ’neath a mountain’s base, 
Amsanctus’ vale, pent in between 
Two wooded slopes of dusky green, 
While in the midst a torrent raves, 
As ’twixt the rocks it winds its waves. 
An awful cavern there men show, 
The very gorge of Dis below, 
And gulfs whence Acheron bursts to sight 
Ope jaws of pestilential night : 
There plunged the hateful fiend beneath, 
And earth and sky again took breath. 


Juno takes up the unfinished plan 
And perfects what the fiend began. 
Straight to the city from the plain 
The shepherds speed, and bear the slain: 
Young Almo in his comely grace 
And old Galesus’ mangled face, 

Make street and home with clamor ring, 

Implore the gods, abjure the king. 

Fierce Turnus takes the tide at flood: 

His loud voice swells the ery for blood 
That blazes up to heaven: 

“ Strange slips defile the royal stem: 

The Phrygians share the diadem, 
Himself from Latium driven.” 

Then they whose dames are footing still 

In Bacchie frenzy wood and hill 

(Such power is in Amata’s name) 

Come forth, and fan the martial flame. 


11 


Gainst omens flashed betore their eyes, 


256 THE AENEID. 


’Gainst warnings thundered from the skies, 
They cry for war, and early and late 
Besiege Latinus’ palace gate. 
Like rock engirdled by the sea, 
Like rock immovable is he 

Before the roaring tide: 
The wild waves bark about its base: 
Its mass sustains it still in place: 
Crags echo round: it gives no heed : 
And scattered foam and rent seaweed 

Fall from its rugged side. 
Powerless at length their rage to check, 
As things whirl on at Juno’s beck, 
Appealing oft to soulless skies 
And deaf dumb gods, the father cries : 
«“ Alas! the destinies prevail : 
We drift and drift before the gale: 
Ah, wretched children ! yours the guilt, 
And yours the blood must needs be spilt. 
Thee, Turnus, thee the grim fiends wait: 
Thine agonizing vows too late 
Shall knock at heaven’s relentless gate. 
For me, my rest is all assured, 
My bark within the haven moored : 
The shock that parts my aged breath 
But robs me of a happy death.” 
He speaks, and in his chamber hides, 
While from his hand the scepter slides. 


In Latium’s old Hesperian day 
An ancient rule of yore had sway ; 
To Alba’s cities thence it passed ; 
Now Rome, earth’s mistress, holds it fast, 
Whether ’gainst Thrace they turn their spears, 
Or bring the Arab blood and tears, 
Or, following on the daystar’s track, 


BOOK VII. 


From Parthia claim the standards back. 
Two gates there stand of War—’twas so 
Our fathers named them long ago— 
The war-god’s terrors round them spread 
An atmosphere of sacred dread. 
A hundred bolts the entrance guard, 
And Janus there keeps watch and ward. 
These, when his peers on war decide, 
The consul, all in antique pride 
Of Gabine cincture deftly tied 
And purple-striped attire, 
With grating noise himself unbars, 
And calls aloud on Father Mars : 
The warrior train takes up the cry, 
And horns with brazen symphony 
Their hoarse assent conspire. 
*T was thus they bade the king proclaim 
Fierce war against the Trojan name, 
And ope the gates of doom: 
The good old sire with hand and eye 
Shrank from the hated ministry 
And deeper plunged in gloom. 
When lo! in person from above 
Descends the imperial spouse of Jove, 
Smote the barred gates, and backward rolled 
On jarring hinge each bursted fold. 
Ausonia, all inert before, 
Takes fire and blazes to the core: 
And some on foot their march essay, 
Some, mounted, storm along the way ; 
To arms! cries one and all: 
With unctuous lard their shields they clean 
And make their javelins bright and sheen, 
Their axes on the whetstone grind ; 
Look how that banner takes the wind! 
Hark to yon trumpet’s call! 
17 


=i 


258 THE ASNEID. 


Five mighty towns, with anvils set, 

In emulous haste their weapons whet: 

Crustumium, Tiber the renowned, 

And strong Atina there are found, 

And Ardea, and Antemne crowned 
With turrets round her wall. 

Steel caps they frame their brows to fit, 

And osier twigs for bucklers knit: 

Or twist the hauberk’s brazen mail 

And mold them greayes of silver pale : 

To these has passed the homage paid 

Ere while to plowshare, scythe, and spade: 

Each brings his father’s battered blade 
And smelts in fire anew: 

And now the clarions pierce the skies: 

From rank to rank the watchword flies: 

This tears his helmet from the wall, 

That drags his war-horse from the stall, 

Dons three-piled mail and ample shield, 

And girds him for the embattled field 
With falchion tried and true. 


Now, Muses, ope your Helicon, 

The gates of song unfold, 
What chiefs, what tribes to war came on 

In those dim days of old, 
What sons were then Italia’s pride, 
And what the arms that blazed so wide: 
For ye are goddesses: full well 
Your mind takes note, your tongue can tell: 
The far-off whisper of the years 
Scarce reaches our bewildered ears. 


Mezentius first from Tyrrhene coast, 
Who mocks at heaven, arrays his host, 
And braves the battle’s storm: 


BOOK VIL. 259 


His son, young Lausus, at his side, 
Excelled by none in beauty’s pride, 
Save Turnus’ comely form: 
Lausus, the tamer of the steed, 
The conqueror of the silvan breed, 
Leads from Agylla’s towers in vain 
A thousand youths, a valiant train: 
Ah happy, had the son been blest 
In harkening to his sire’s behest, 
Or had the sire from whom he came 
Had other nature, other name ! 


Next drives along the grassy meads 
His palm-crowned car and conquering steeds 
Fair Aventinus, princely heir 
Of Hercules the brave and fair, 
And for his proud escutcheon takes 
His father’s Hydra and her snakes. 
*T was he that priestess Rhea bare, 
A stealthy birth, to upper air, 
’*Mid shades of woody Aventine 
Mingling her own with heavenly blood, 
When triumph-flushed from Geryon slain 
Alcides touched the Latian plain, 
And bathed Iberia’s distant kine 
In Tuscan Tiber’s flood. 
Long pikes and poles his bands uprear, 
The shapely blade, the Sabine spear. 
Himself on foot, with lion’s skin, 
Whose long white teeth with ghastly grin | 
Clasp like a helmet brow and chin, 
Joins the proud chiefs in rude attire, 
And flzunts the emblem of his sire. 


From Tibur’s wall twin brothers came, 
The town that bears Tiburtus’ name, 


260 THE ANEID. 


Bold Coras and Catillus strong : 
Through thick-rained darts they storm along, 
The foremost in the fray : 
As when two cloud-born Centaurs leap 
Down Homole or Othrys’ steep, 
The forest parts before their sweep, 
And crashing trees give away. 


Nor lacked there to the embattled power 

The founder of Przeneste’s tower, 
Brave Ceculus, by all renowned 
As Vulcan’s son, “mid embers found 
And monarch of the rustics crowned. 
Beneath him march his rural train, 
Whom high Preeneste’s walls contain, 
Who dwell in Gabian Juno’s plain, 
Whose haunt is Anio’s chilly flood 
And Hernic rocks, by streams bedewed, 
Who till Anagnia’s bosom green 
Or drink of father Amasene. 
Not all are furnished for the war 
With ample shield or sounding car. 
Some sling lead bullets o’er the field, 
Some javelins twain in combat wield. 
A cap of fur protects their head 

By spoil of tawny wolf supplied ; 
Their left foot bare, on earth they tread ; 

The right is cased in raw bull-hide. 


Messapus, tamer of the steed, 
The ocean-monarch’s mighty seed, 
Whom none might harm, so willed his sire, 
With force of iron or of fire, 
Awakes his people’s slumbering zeal 
Long time unused to war’s appeal, 
And from the scabbard bares the steel. 


BOOK VII. 261 


With him Fescennia’s armed train, 

The dwellers in Falerii’s plain, 

Who hold Soracte’s lofty hill 

Or fair Flavinia’s cornland till, 

Capena’s woods their dwelling make 

Or Ciminus, its mount and lake. 

With measured pace they march along, 

And make their monarch’s deeds their song 5 

Like snow-white swans in liquid air, 

When homeward from their food they fare, 

And far and wide melodious notes 

Come rippling from their slender throats, 

While the broad stream and Asia’s fen 

Reverberate to the sound again. 

Sure none had thought that countless crowd 
A mail-clad company ; 

It rather seemed a dusky cloud 

Of migrant fowl, that, hoarse and loud, 
Press landward from the sea. 


Lo! Clausus there, the Sabines’ boast, 
Leads a great host, himself a host ; 
Whence spread the Claudian race, since Rome 
With Sabine burghers shared her home 
With him the Amiternians came 
And Cures’ sons of ancient name, 

The squadron that Eretum guards 

And green Mutusca’s olive-yards, 

Those whom Nomentum’s city yields, 
Who till Velinus’ Rosean fields, 

Who Tetrica’s rude summit climb 
Or on Severus sits sublime, 

Or dwell where runs Himella by 
Casperia’s walls and Foruli, 

Who Tiber haunt and Fabaris’ banks, 

Whom Nursia sends to battle down 


209 THE ASNEID. 


From her cold home, Hortinian ranks 

And Latian tribes of old renown, 
With those whom Allia’s stream ill-starred 
Flows through, dividing sward from sward ; 
Thick as the Libyan billows swarm 
When fell Orion sets in storm, 
Or as the sun-baked ears of grain 
In Hemus’ field or Lycia’s plain ; 
Their bucklers rattle, and the ground 
Quakes, startled by their footfall’s sound. 


Halzsus, Agamemnon’s mate, 
Who hates all Troy with liegeman’s hate, 
Yokes his swift horses to the car, 
And brings his hosts to Turnus’ war, 
The rustic tribes whose plowshare tills 
The vine-clad slopes of Massic hills, 
Sent from Auruncan heights, or bound 
From Sidicinian champaign-ground, 
Who fertile Cales leave behind 
Or where Vulturnian waters wind, 
Saticule’s tenants, rough and rude, 
And all the hardy Oscan brood. 
Spiked truncheons they are wont to fling, 
But fit them with a leathern string: 
A target shields the good left hand, 
And curved like Pruner’s hook the brand 
They wield when foot to foot they stand. 


Nor, CEbalus, shalt thou pass by 
Unnamed in this our minstrelsy, 
Born to old Telon, Capree’s king, 
By Naiad of Sebethus’ spring ; 
The son contemned his sire’s domain, 
And stretched o’er neighboring lands his reign, 
Sarrastes’ tribes his rule obey, 


BOOK VII. 


And fields where Sarnus’ waters play, 
Who Batulum and Rufre hold 

Or till Celenne’s fruitful mold, 

Or those whom fair Abella sees 
Down-looking through her apple-trees,* 
All wont in Teuton sort to throw 
Nail-studded mace’s gainst the foe ; 
Their helm of bark from cork-tree peeled, 


Of brass their sword, of brass their shield. 


Thee too steep Nersz sends to war 
Brave Ufens, born ’neath happy star: 
Hard as their clods the A¢quian race, 
Inured to labor in the chase ; 

In armor sheathed, they till their soil. 
Heap foray up, and live by spoil. 


Came too from old Marruvia’s realm, 
An olive-garland round his helm, 
Bold Umbro, priest at once and knight, 
By king Archippus sent to fight ; 
Who baleful serpents knew to steep 
By hand and voice in charmed sleep, 


Soothed their fierce wrath with subtlest skill, 


And from their bite drew off the ill. 
But ah! his medicines could not heal 
The death-wound dealt by Dardan steel ; 


His slumberous charms availed him nought, 


Nor herbs on Marsian mountains sought 
And cropped with magic shears ; 
For thee Anguitia’s woody cave, 
For thee the glassy Fucine wave, 
For thee the lake shed tears. 


* And where Abella sees 


From her high towers the harvest of her trees.” 


DRYDEN. 


264 THE ASNEID. 


From green Aricia, bent on fame, 

Hippolytus’ fair offspring came, 
In lone Egeria’s forest reared, 
Where Dian’s shrine is loved and feared. 
For lost Hippolytus, ’tis said, 
By cruel stepdame’s cunning dead, 
Dragged by his frightened steeds, to sate 
His angry sire’s vindictive hate, 
Was called once more to realms above, 
By Peeon’s skill and Dian’s love. 
Then Jove, incensed that man should rise 
From darkness to the upper skies, 
The leech that wrought such healing hurled 
With lightning down to Pluto’s world. 
But Trivia kind her favorite hides 
And to Egeria’s care confides, 
To live in woods obscure and lone, 
And lose in Virbius’ name his own. 
Tis thence e’en now from Trivia’s shrine 

The horn-hoofed steeds are chased, 
Since, scared by monsters of the brine, 
The chariot and the youth divine 

They tumbled on the waste. 
Yet ne’ertheless with horse and car 
His dauntless son essays the war. 


In foremost rank see Turnus move, 
lis comely head the rest above: 
On his tall helm the triple cone 
Chimera in relief is shown ; 
The monster’s gaping jaws expire 
Hot volumes of A<tnzan fire : 
And still she flames and raves the more 
The deeper floats the field with gore. 
With bristling hide and lifted horns 
Io, all gold, his shield adorns, 


BOOK VII. OD 


F’en as in life she stood ; 
There too is Argus, warder stern, 
And Inachus from graven urn, 
Her father, pours his flood. 
A cloud of footmen at his back 
And shielded hosts the plain made black 3 
Auruneans, Argives, brave and bold, 
Rutulians and Sicanians old, 
Sacranians thirsting for the field, 
Labici with enameled shield ; 
Who Tiber’s lawns with furrow score 
And pure Numicius’ sacred shore, 
Subdue Rutulian slopes, and plow 
Circeius’ steep reluctant brow: 
Where Anxur boasts her guardian Jove 
And greenly blooms Feronia’s grove 3 
Where Satura’s unlovely mere 
In sullen quiet sleeps, 
And Ufens gropes through marshland drear 
And hides him in the deeps. 


Last marches forth for Latium’s sake 
Camilla fair, the Volscian maid, 
A troop of horsemen in her wake 
In pomp of gleaming steel arrayed $ 
Stern warrior queen! those tender hands 
Ne’er plied Minerva’s ministries : 
A virgin in the fight she stands, 
Or winged wings in speed outvies. 
Nay, she might fly o’er fields of grain 
Nor crush in fight the tapering wheat, 
Or skim the surface of the main, 
Nor let the billows touch her feet. 
Where’er she moves, from house and land 
The youths and ancient matrons throng, 
And fixed in greedy wonder stand 


266 THE ASNEID. 


Beholding as she speeds along: 
In kingly dye that scarf was dipped : 
Tis gold confines those tresses’ flow: 
Her pastoral wand with steel is tipped, 
And Lycian are her shafts and bow. 


ea 


BOOK VIII, 


BOOK VIII. 


267 


ARGUMENT.—The war being now began, both the 
generals make all possible preparations. Turnus sends 
to Diomede ; Afneas goes in person to beg succors from 
Evander and the Tuscans. Evander receives him kindly, 
furnishes him with men, and sends his son Pallas with 


him. Vulcan, at the request of Venus, makes arms for 


her son Aineas, and draws on his shield the most memo- 


rable actions of his posterity. 


Wuen Turnus had war’s ensign shown 
From high Laurentum’s tower, 


And made the horns with hoarse harsh tone 


Give forth their voice of power, 
His fiery coursers chafed, and pealed 
The din of battle on his shield, 
Dull hearts are startled from their sloth ; 
All Latium joins in solemn oath, 

And kindles in an hour. 
Messapus, Ufens, ’mid the first, 
And fierce Mezentius, scoffer cursed, 
Raise succor, and from cultured plains 
Sweep to the camp the sturdy swains. 
And Venulus betimes is sped 
On embassy to Diomed, 
To crave for help, and tell the tale 
That Troy has entered Latium’s pale: 
Aineas with his gods is there, 
And boasts himself the kingdom’s heir, 
While many a nation joins his side, 
And Latium feels his name spread wide. 
What prize he seeks from war, what end, 
Should Fortune smile, his hopes intend, 


268 THE AENEID. 


King Diomed my fitlier scan 
Than Turnus or Latinus can. 


So Latium fares: the Trojan sees, 

And fluctuates in perplexities : 
By thousand warring cares distraught, 
This way and that he whirls his thought. 
As flashes light upon the face 
Of water in a brazen vase 

From sun or lunar rays, 
From spot to spot behold it dart, 
And now it takes an upward start 

And on the ceiling plays. 
Night came: all life was buried deep, 
Man, beast, and bird, in placid sleep: 
The chief beneath the cope of heaven, 
His heart with thought of battle riven, 
His limbs beside the river throws 
And courts the quiet of repose. 
When rising through the poplar wood 
Appears the genius of the flood : 
A gray gauze mantle wrapped him round $ 
With shadowy reed his brows were crowned: 
Then thus he spoke, and laid to rest 
The cares that racked the hero’s breast: 


“QO seed of Heaven, who bring once more 
Lost Pergamus to this our shore, 
And keep old Troy in life, 
Long looked for on Laurentian ground, 
Behold your home, your mansion found, 
Nor fear though foeman hem you round 
With menaces of strife. 
Heaven’s anger is at length assuaged, 
And ceased the feud of Gods enraged. 
E’en now, lest haply you should deem, 


BOOK VIII. 269 


My words the coinage of a dream, 

On woody banks before your eye 

A thirty-farrowed sow shall lie, 

Her whole white length on earth stretched out, 
Her young, as white, her teats about, 
Sign that when thirty years come round 
White Alba shall Ascanius found. 

Not vain my song: now, how to speed 

In prosperous sort your pressing need, 
*Tis mine to tell and yours to heed. 
Arcadians here, from Pallas born, 

To king Evander’s service sworn, 

On mountain heights have built and walled 
A city, Pallanteum called. 

With Latium constant war they wage: 
Make them your friends, their aid engage. 
Myself will be your journey’s guide, 

And teach your oars to climb the tide. 
Up, goddess-born, this instant rise, 

And ere the starlight leaves the skies 
Make vows to Juno: overbear 

Her angry soul with gift and prayer. 
When conquest crowns you in the fight, 

I too will claim a patron’s right. 

Tis I whose brimming flood you see 
Careering through the fruitful lea, 
Cerulean Tiber, first in love 

And dearest to the Gods above. 

Lo here, arising from my bed, 

My stately home, the nations’ head.” 


He said, and sought the river’s pit, 
While night and sleep Afneas quit. 
Up starts the chief, and turns his eyes 
In reverence to the orient skies, 

In hollowed palm the water takes, 


270 THE A®NEID. 


And thus his supplication makes : 
« Laurentian Nymphs, from whose pure blood 
The rivers have their birth, 
Thou, Tiber, with thy sacred flow, 
The beauty of the earth, 
Receive Aeneas, and at length 
Abate the toils that waste his strength. 
Whate’er the source where, calm and still, 
Thou giv’st a thought to this our ill, 
Where’er thou spring’st to life divine, 
My gifts, my worship shall be thine, 
Blest power, o’er each Italian stream 
The horned monarch crowned supreme. 
Be near to succor us, and seal 
The omen that thy words reveal.” 
This said, he chooses biremes two, 
Provides them oars, and arms the crew : 
When lo! a sudden prodigy : 
A milk-white sow is seen 
Stretched with her young ones, white as she, 
Along the margent green. 
neas takes them, dam and brood, 
And o’er the altar pours their blood, 
To thee, great Juno, e’en to thee, 
High heaven’s majestic queen. 
All night the Tiber calmed his flood, 
And stayed its onward course, and stood, 
That smooth might lie the watery floor, 
Nor aught impede the toiling oar. 
So speed they on’mid joyful cries ; 
The vessels lightly glide ; 
And waves and woods with strange surprise 
See glittering steel and painted keel 
Advancing up the tide. 
Still rowing on, they wear away 
The energies of night and day, 


BOOK VIII. 


O’erpass full many a lengthy reach 
’*Neath alder shade or spreading beech, 
And gently wind thick groves between 
That lend the wave a deeper green. 

The sun was at his midday height, 
When tower and rampire loom in sight, 
And dwellings thinly strown : 
Now to the skies Rome’s power makes soar 

That city : then ’twas scant and poor, 
Evander’s humble throne. 

Soon as they see, to land they steer 

Their ships, and to the town draw near. 


The Arcadian monarch chanced that day 
A high solemnity to pay 
Before the city, in a grove, 
To Hercules, the seed of Jove. 
His rustic senators are there, 
And Pallas too, his kingdom’s heir, 
With censers charged : the spilt life-stream 
Sends up a sacrificial steam. 
Soon as the gallant ships they saw 
*Mid the thick forest nearer draw 
In still swift cadence oared, 
A sudden terror takes their eyes: 
In wild confusion all uprise 
And quit the banquet-board. 
Bold Pallas chides their panic start, 
Takes in his hand a beamy dart, 
And from a mound afar, 


2 


b 
4 


1 


“ Speak, gallant youths! what cause,” he cries, 


«“ Has driven you here on strange emprise ? 
What seek you as your journey’s aim ? 


Say, what your home, your race, your name: 


Or bring you peace, or war?” 
Afneas from the lofty stern 


279 THE ZNEID. 


~~ 


With outstretched olive makes return: 
«Born Trojans we: our warlike gear 
Your Latian enemies may fear: 
Driven from their coast by sword and spear 
Evander’s court we seek. 
Go, tell your king, Dardania’s power 
Has sent us here, the nation’s flower, 
His succor to bespeak.” 
That mighty name struck Pallas dumb: 
«“ Whoe’er you are,” he answers, “ come, 
Speak with my father face to face, 
Our welcome take, our mansion grace.” 
With friendly grasp he took and pressed 
The hand of his illustrious guest : 
Advancing, through the grove they wind, 
And leave the river’s bank behind. 


And now with many a courteous word 

The prince of Troy his suit preferred. 

«“ Worthiest and best of Danaan race, 

Whom Fortune bids me sue for grace 
With signs of suppliant need, 

I feared not to approach you, I, 

Though sprung from Grecian Arcady, 
Allied to Atreus’ seed. 

Heaven’s oracles and conscious worth, 

Your own fair fame, that fills the earth, 

And kindred ancestry—'tis these 

Have made us one in sympathies, 

And driven me to your royal gate, 

The willing instrument of fate. 

Old Dardanus, Troy’s founder styled, 

Declared by Greece Electra’s child, 
To Teucer’s nation came ; 

And Atlas was Electra’s sire, 

Whose sinewy strength, unused to tire, 


BOOK VIII. 


Supports the starry frame. 
Your sire is Mercury, whom of yore 
Maia, his radiant mother, bore 
In cold Cyllene’s air : 
But Maia, if report say true, 
Her birth from that same Atlas drew 
Whose shoulders heaven upbear. 
Tis thus one fountain-head contains 
The stream that flows in either’s veins. 
Thus armed, I made no first essay 
By embassies to sound the way: 
My life I jeoparded, my own, 
And came in person to your throne. 
The Daunian hunts us as his prey, 
Your own inveterate foe: 
If us they banish, nought, they say, 
Shall save Hesperia from their sway ; 
The upper sea shall soon obey, 
And that which rolls below. 
Exchange we friendship: martial powers, 
Stout hearts, and practised arms are ours,” 


He said. Evander’s keen eyes scan 
Kyes, features, mien, and all the man: 
Then thus he speaks: “ How great my joy 
To hail you, bravest son of Troy! 

How truly, fondly I recall 

Anchises’ look, voice, language, all! 

I mind, when Priam came to see 

His sister’s realm, Hesione, 

On to Arcadia’s bounds he passed 

And breathed our cold inclement blast. 

A boy was I, a stripling lad, 

My cheek with youth’s first blossom clad ; 
I gazed at Priam and his train 

Of Trojan lords, and gazed again; 


18 


b> 


974 THE ANEID. 


ai4 


But great Anchises, princely tall, 

Was more than Priam, more than all. 
With boyish zeal I schemed and planned 
To greet the chief, and grasp his hand. 
I ventured, and with eager zest 

To Pheneus brought my honored guest. 
A Lycian quiver he bestowed 

At parting, with its arrowy load, 

A gold-wrought scarf, and bridle reins 
Of gold, which Pallas still retains. 

So now the troth you ask I plight, 

And soon as morning lends her light 

A troop shall lead you on your way 
And ample stores your need purvey. 
Meanwhile, since happy chance invites 
Your presence, share these annual rites 
Which Heaven forbids us to postpone, 
And make our friendly boards your own.” 
Once more he calls for wine and meats, 
And sets the chiefs on grassy seats, 
fneas first on maple throne 

With lion’s shaggy hide bestrown ; 
While youths attendant on the priest 
Bring roasted flesh of victim beast, 
Wrought Ceres’ gifts in baskets pile, 
And make the cups with Bacchus smile. 
So, plied with food, the strangers dine , 
On entrails and on bullock’s chine. 


When hunger’s rage at length was stayed, 
And craving appetite allayed, 
Evander speaks: “This solemn day, 
The feast we serve, the rites we pay, 
Not these the freaks of fancy strange, 
Blind to the past and bent on change : 
No, Trojan guest ; deliverance wrought 


BOOK VIII. 275 


From direful ill the lesson taught : 
The yearly honors we renew, 
But render thanks where thanks are due. 
Behold yon beetling cliff o’erhung, 
Those crags in wild confusion flung, 
That mountain-dwelling, all forlorn, 
And rocks from their foundations torn. 
Beneath the hill a cavern ran 
Where Cacus lived, half beast, half man: 
No sunbeam e’er came in: 
The wet ground reeked with fresh-spilt gore, 
And human heads adorned the door 
With foul and ghastly grin. 
Dark Vulcan was the monster’s sire: 
He vomited Vulcanian fire, 
And, glorying in so proud a birth, 
Shook with his bulk the solid earth. 
We, too, when yearning to be freed, 
Found heavenly succor in our need. 
At length a strong avenger came, 
Alcides, in the glow of fame 
From Geryon spoiled and killed :} 
His captured bulls he led this way 
Victorious, and the stately prey 
Bank-side and valley filled. 
But Cacus, spurred by Furies on 
To leave no wickedness undone, 
Four bulls, four heifers, beauteous all, 
Bears off in plunder from the stall : 
And these, to hide their track, he trails 
Back through the valley by their tails, 
And thus, the footprints all reversed, 
Conceals them in his lair accursed. 
No sign, no mark the foray gave 
To lead the seeker to the cave: 
Till when at last Amphitryon’s son 


276 THE ZENEID. 


Removed his herd, their pasture done, 

And stood prepared to go, 

The oxen at departing fill 
With noisy utterance grove and hill, 

And breathe a farewell low: 
When hark! a heifer from the den 
Makes answer to the sound again, 

And mocks her wily foe. 

Black choler filled Alcides’ heart: 
He snatches club and bow and dart, 

And scales the mountain’s height. 
Then, nor till then, was Cacus seen 
With quailing eye, and troubled mien: 
Swifter than swiftest wind he flies 
At once, and to the cavern hies, 

While terror wings his flight. 
Scarce had he gained the cavern door 
And lowered the rock that hung before 
Fixed by his father’s art: the strain 
Makes the stout doorposts start again: 
When lo! the fierce Tirynthian came, 
His vengeful spirit all on flame, 

Darts here and there his blazing eye, 
If haply entrance he may spy, 

And grinds for rage his teeth ; 
And thrice the mountain he surveyed, 
Thrice the blocked gate in vain essayed, 

Thrice rested, and took breath. 

A pointed rock, on all sides steep, 
Rose high above that dungeon-keep, 
Abrupt and craggy, fitted best 

For noisome birds to build their nest. 
This, as it frowned above the tide, 
He pushed from the remoter side, 

And from its socket tore : 

Then hurled it down: the high heavens crack, 


BOOK VIIL or" 


The river to its source runs back, 
And shore recoils from shore. 

Then Cacus’ mansion stood displayed ; 
The cave revealed its depth of shade; 

As though by some strange might 
Earth, parting to her inmost core, 
Should show the realms that Gods abhor, 
The vast abyss lie bare to day, 

And specters huddle in dismay 
At influx of the light. 
There as surprised with sudden glare 
The monster, pent within his lair, 
Tn hideous fashion roars, 
Alcides plies him from on high 
With all his dread artillery, 

And trunk and millstone pours. 
He, powerless to elude or flee, 

Black smoke disgorges, dire to see, 

With darkness floods the room, 
Blots out all prospect from the sight, 
And makes another, deeper night, 

Half lightning and half gloom. 
Alcides, chafing as for shame, 
Dashed onward headlong through the flame, 
Where thickest spout the jets of smoke, 
And blackest clouds the cavern choke. 
There, as in vain he fumed and hissed, 
He locked him in a deadly twist, 
And cleaving, clinging, throttling, strained 
His starting eyes, his throat blood-drained. 
The victor now, the doors down-torn, 

The loathsome den reveals, 
Displays the oxen, late forsworn, 
And the foul carcass drags in scorn 

To daylight by the heels. 
The rustics view with wild surprise 


278 THE ANEID. 


The body o’er and o’er, 
That shaggy breast, those dreadful eyes, 
Those jaws that flame no more. 
Henceforth our tribes observance pay 
And keep with joy this solemn day, 
Potitius foremost, and the line 
Pinarian, warders of the shrine. 
*T was here he fixed his altar-stone, 
In name and fact our greatest known. 
Come then, in memory of such worth 
The garland don, the cup hold forth, 
Invoke the God we both revere, 
And pour the wine with hearty cheer.” 
Ile ceased: the poplar’s sacred shade, 
The blended white and green, 
Hung from his brow: the cup displayed 
High in his hand was seen: 
With equal zeal his guests outpour 
The votive wine, the gods adore. 


Meantime the sun had stooped from high, 
And nears the downfall of the sky. 
Potitius and the priestly band 
Come, clad in skins, with torch in hand. 
Once more the banquet is restored ; 
Rich dainties grace the second board ; 
The victim’s choicest parts, bestowed 
On bending plates, the altars load. 

The Salian minstrels come, their brows 
Engarlanded with poplar boughs, 
Two bands, one old, one young : 
The deeds of Hercules they sing, 
How, o’er his stepdame triumphing, 
The serpent’s neck he wrung ; 
How mighty towns he overthrew, 
Great Troy and great Céchalia too; 


BOOK VIIL, 279 


What countless tasks, assigned 
By king Eurystheus, he fulfilled, 
When haughty Juno, iron-willed, 
With destiny combined. 
“Thy conquering arm the cloud-born twain, 
Hylzeus, Pholus, both has slain; 
Thou lay’st the Cretan monster low, 
And that fell beast, that met his foe 
In Nemea’s mountain glen. 
The Stygian lake beheld and feared, 
And Orcus’ warder, blood-besmeared, 
Growling o’er gory bones half-cleared 
Down in his gloomy den. 
No grisly shape thy soul could fright, 
Nor e’en Typhceus, as for fight 
In arms he towered erect; 
No lack was thine of counsel shrewd, 
When like a legion round thee stood 
The Hydra hundred-necked. 
All hail, great Jove’s authentic race, 
Whaoe’en to heaven canst lend a grace! 
Vouchsafe thy presence here to-day 
To us and to the rites we pay.” 
So mingle they their praise and prayer, 
And add, to crown his fame, 
Grim Cacus in his robber-lair 
Outbreathing smoke and flame. 
The sacred forest, thrilled with sound, 
Re-echoes and the hills rebound. 


And now the train, their worship o’er, 
Back to the city wend once more. 
Heavy with age, the king moves on, 
And keeps Afneas and his son 
Close at his side, while various talk 
Makes light the burden of the walk. 


980 THE AONEID. 


Admniringly the Trojan plies 
From side to side his glancing eyes, 
Feels every charm, and asks and hears 
Each record of departed years. 
Then spoke the venerable king, 
From whom, O Rome, thy glories spring: 
«“ This forest ground, from time’s first dawn, 
Was held by natives, Nymph and Faun, 
Men who from stalks their birth had drawn 
And oaks of hardest grain: 
No arts were theirs: they knew not how 
To couple oxen to the plow, 
To store their treasured goods or spare: 
The teeming boughs supplied their fare 
And beasts in hunting slain. 
Then from Olympus’ height came down 
Good Saturn, exiled from his crown 
By Jove, his mightier heir : 
He brought the race to union first, 
Erewhile on mountain-tops dispersed, 
And gave them statutes to obey, 
And willed the land wherein he lay 
Should Latium’s title bear. 
That was the storied age of gold, 
So peacefully, serenely rolled 
The years beneath his reign ; 
At length stole on a baser age, 
And war’s indomitable rage, 
And greedy lust of gain. 
Ausonians and Sicanians came, 
And Saturn’s land oft changed her name: 
Came too the monarchs, Tibris grim, 
The royal giant, large of limb, 
Whose name thenceforth the river bore, 
And Albula was known no more. 
Myself, an exile from my home, 


BOOK VIII. 281 


Went wandering far along the foam, 
Till mighty chance and destined doom 
Constrained my errant choice : 
So came I to these regions, driven 
By warning from my mother given 
And Phoebus’ awful voice.” 
Then, as they take their onward ways, 
A gate and altar he displays, 
Rome’s own Carmental. gate : 
In after years such honor found 
Eyander’s mother, nymph renowned, 
Jarmentis, first of seers who sung 
The heroes from Afneas sprung 
And Pallanteum’s fate. 
Next at the grove their feet are stayed 
Which Romulus the Asylum made: 
Lupercal’s gelid cave they see, 
Named from the god of Arcady. 
Then shows he Argiletum’s wood, 
Appealing to the scene of blood, 
And tells the tale of Argus’ end, 
Perfidious Argus, once his friend. 
Then to Tarpeia’s dread abode 
And Capitol he points the road. 
Now all is golden; then ’twas all 
O’ergrown with trees and brushwood tall. 
H’en then rude hinds the spot revered : 
F’en then the wood, the rock they feared. 
“ Here in this grove, these wooded steeps 
Some god unknown his mansion keeps: 
Areadia’s children deem 
Their eyes have looked on Jove’s own form, 
When oft he summons cloud and storm. 
And seen his egis gleam. 
See you yon towers in hoar decay, 
The relics and memorials gray 


282 THE ANEID. 


Of old ancestral fame ? 
This Janus, that king Saturn walled, 
And this Janiculum was called, 
That bore Saturnia’s name.” 
So talking on, at length they come 
To poor Evander’s lowly home : 
There, where Carinz’s mansions shine, 
Where spreads the Forum, lowed the kine. 
The palace reached, “ These gates,” he cried, 
“ Alcides entered in his pride, 
This house the god contained : 
Thou too take courage, wealth despise, 
And fit thee to ascend the skies, 
Nor be a poor man’s courtesies 
Rejected or disdained.” 
He spoke, and through the narrow door 
The great Afneas led, 
And heaped a couch upon the floor 
With leaves and bear-skin spread. 


Night falls, and earth and living things 
Are folded in her sable wings. 
But Venus, with a mother’s dread 
At Latium’s wild alarm, 
To Vulcan on the golden bed 
Spoke, breathing on each word she said 
Sweet love’s enticing charm: 
“ When Greece was laboring to destroy 
The fated battlements of Troy, 
No arms from thee I cared to ask 
For Troy’s unhappy race, 
Nor chose, dear love, in vain to task 
Thy labor or thy grace, 
Though much to Priam’s sons I owed, 
And oft my tears of pity flowed 
For my Afneas’ case. 


BOOK VIII. 283 


And now his foot, by Jove’s command, 
Is planted on Rutulian land. 

Thus then behold me suppliant here, 
Low at those knees I most revere : 
Behold a tender mother plead : 

Arms are the boon, her son’s the need. 
Not vainly Nereus’ daughter pled: 

Not vain the tears Aurora shed. 

What nations, see, what towns combine, 
To draw the sword ’gainst me and mine!” 
She ceased: her snowy arms enwound 
Her faltering husband round and round. 
The wonted fire at once he feels: 
Through all his veins the passion steals, 
Swift as the lightning’s fiery glare 

Runs glimmering through the thunderous air. 
His spouse in conscious beauty smiled 
To see his heart by love beguiled. 

Smit to the core with heavenly fire, 

In fondling tone returns the sire: 

“ Why stray so far thy pleas to seek ? 
Has trust in Vulcan grown so weak ? 
Had such, my queen, been then thy bent, 
E’en then to Troy had arms been lent, 
Nor Jove nor Fate refused to give 

To Priam ten more years to live. 

And now, if war be in the air 

And battle’s need thy present care, 
What molten gold or iron can 

With fire to fuse and winds to fan, 

All shall be thine: thy power confess, 
Nor seek by prayers to feign it less.” 
He said, and to his bosom pressed 

His beauteous queen, and sank to rest. 


The night had crowned the cope of heaven, 


284 THE ASNEID. 


And sleep’s first fading bloom had driven 

The slumber from men’s eyes; 

E’en at the hour when prudent wife, 

Who day by day, to eke out life, 
Minerva’s distaff plies, 

Relumes her fire, o’erreaching night, 

And tasks her maidens by its light, 

To keep her husband’s bed from stain 

And for their babes a pittance gain ; 

So, nor less swift, at labor’s claim 

Springs from his couch the Lord of flame. 

Fast by olian Lipare 

And fair Sicania’s coast 
An island rises from the sea 

With smoking rocks embossed 3 
Beneath, a cavern drear and vast, 
Hollowed by Cyclopéan blast, 

Rings with unearthly sound ; 
Bruised anvils clang their thunder-peal, 
Hot hissing glows the Chalyb steel, 
And fiery vapor fierce and fast 

Pants up from underground ; 
The center this of Vulcan’s toil, 
And Vulcan’s name adorns the soil. 
Here finds he, as he makes descent, 
The Cyclops o’er their labor bent: 
Brontes and Steropes are there, 
And gaunt Pyracmon, stripped and bare, 
The thunderbolt was in their hand; 
Which Jove sends down to scourge the land; 
A part was barbed and formed to kill, 
A part remained imperfect still. 
Three rays they took of forky hail, 

Of watery cloud three rays, 

Three of the winged southern gale, 

Three of the ruddy blaze; 


BOOK VIII. 985 


Now wrath they mingle, swift to harm, 
And glare, and noise, and loud alarm. 
Elsewhere for Mars they plan the car 
Wherewith he maddens into war 
Strong towns and spearmen bold, 
And burnish Pallas’ shirt of mail, 
The Agis, bright with dragon’s scale 
And netted rings of gold: 
The twisted serpent-locks they shape 
And Gorgon’s head, lopped at the nape: 
Her dying eyes yet rolled. 
«“ Away with these,” he cried, “away, 
My sons, and list what now I say: 
A mighty chief of arms has need : 
Now prove your skill, your strength, your speed. 
Begone, delay!” No further speech: 
Each takes the part assigned to each, 
And plies the work with zeal : 
In streams the gold, the copper flows, 
And in the mighty furnace glows 
‘The death-inflicting steel. 
A shield they plan, whose single guard 
May all the blows of Latium ward, 
And fold on fold together bind, 
Seven circles round one center twined. 
Some make the windy billows heave, 
Now give forth air, and now receive: 
The copper hisses in the wave: 
The anvils press the groaning cave. 
With measured cadence each and all 
The giant hammers rise and fall: 
The griping pincers, deftly plied, 
Turn the rough ore from side to side. 


While thus in distant caves the sire 
Bestirs the brethren of the fire, 


286 THE AENEID. 


The gracious dawn, the vocal bird 

Beneath his eaves at daybreak heard 
3id old Evander rise: 

A linen tunic he indues, 

And round his feet Tyrrhenian shoes 

In rustic fashion ties : 

A sword he fastens to his side, 

And wears for scarf a panther’s hide. 
Two watch-dogs from the palace-gate 
Come forth, and on their master wait. 
So, mindful of his plighted word, 

He seeks his guest, the Trojan lord. 
Mneas too with willing feet 

As early moves his host to meet. 
Achates on his chief attends : 

Beside Evander walks his son: 
Each, guest and host, his hand extends :: 
They sit them down and talk as friends, 

When thus the king begun: 
“Great chief of Troy, whose safety shows 
That Ilium still survives her foes, 
Albeit a mighty name be ours, 

Yet scanty are our martial powers; ' 
Here Tiber bounds us, there the din 
Of Rutule warfare hems us in: 
Strong succor ne’ertheless I bring, 
Great nations, rich with many a king: 
By chance they stand before our gate: 
You join us at the call of Fate. 

Far hence Agylla’s city stands, 

Built, like our own, by alien hands: 
There warlike Lydia’s ancient stock 

Is planted on the Etruscan rock. 

Long years of prosperous empire past, 
Mezentius took the throne at last, 

By arms compelled them to obey, 


BOOK VIII. 287 


And governed with a tyrant’s sway. 
Why tell the blood the monster spilt, 
Each freak of madness or of guilt ? 
Nay—Heaven return it on his head !— 
He chained the living to the dead, 
Hand joined to hand and face to face 
In noisome pestilent embrace ; 
So trickling down with foul decay 
They wore their lingering lives away. 
But wearied out with tyrannies, 
In arms at length his people rise, 
Besiege his gates, his guards lay low, 
And firebrands to his roof-tree throw. 
He ’mid the tumult of the strife, 
So Fortune willed, escapes with life, 
To haughty Turnus’ kingdom flies, 
And hides him with his old allies. 
Etruria glows with righteous ire: 
All, sheathed in arms, his head require. 
Now, gallant guest, this numerous band 
I offer to your sole command: 
Around the shore their vessels crowd 
And call for action, fierce and loud ; 
An aged seer their speed restrains, 
Rehearsing things which Heaven ordains: 
‘Brave sons of brave Meonian sires, 
Whom dark Mezentius’ rule inspires 
With wrath and righteous grief, 
No leader of Italian blood 
May head so vast a multitude: 
Choose ye a foreign chief.’ 
Scared by Heaven’s voice, the Etruscan train 
Sits down in arms in yonder plain. 
An envoy, sent from Tarchon, brings 
The scepter of Etruria’s kings, 
And bids me join the camp, and wear 


988 THE J5NEID. 


The crown, and be the kingdom’s heir. 
But envious age, for war too late, 
Forbids Evander to be great. 
My son perchance the host might lead, 
But, born of Sabine mother’s seed, 
A half Italian he: 
You, blest alike in age and race, 
Assume, brave prince, the chieftain’s place 
O’er Troy and Italy. 
Nay more, my hope, my only joy, 
I give you too, my noble boy : 
The martial lore of service stern 
Beneath your conduct he shall learn, 
With reverence on your actions gaze, 
And tread your steps from earliest days. 
Two hundred men, with each his steed, 
I send with him, Arcadia’s breed, 
And Pallas from his own good store 
Shall furnish forth two hundred more.” 


E’en as he spoke, in thought profound 
The chiefs of Troy perused the ground : 
Chill fears came thick, when lo! from heaven 
A sudden sign, by Venus given. 

Swift runs athwart the sky’s clear field 
A thunder and a glare : 

All Nature to her center reeled, 

And east and west through ether peeled 
The Tyrrhene trumpet’s blare. 

They look : yet once and once again 

Deep growls the thunder in his den ; 

And armor veiled in cloud is seen 

High in the azure space serene 

To glimmer with a ruddy sheen 
And hurtle in the air. 

The rest in wonder pause spellbound : 


BOOK VIII. 289 


Afneas hails the expected sound 
And owns his mother’s hand. 

“ Ask not,” he cries, “much-honored friend, 

What chance these prodigies portend: 
Tis I the skies demand : 

This sign to send my mother vowed, 
If war was on the wing: 

Herself to aid me through the cloud 
Vulcanian arms would bring. 

Alas ! what havoc soon shall seize 

Laurentum’s wretched families ! 

What reckoning, Turnus, yours to pay ! 
What burdens shalt thou roll, 

Helmets and shields and mangled clay 
Where dwelt a warrior’s soul, 

Hoar Tiber! Call to arms, and break 

With treacherous ease the leagues ye make! ” 


He said, and from his throne upleapt, 
Awakes the altar-fires that slept, 
And pays the rite of morning hours 
To Hercules and home-god powers. 
The Trojans and Arcadia’s king 
Alike their chosen victims bring, 
Then, turning shoreward, he reviews 
His vessels, and arrays the crews : 
Of these the first in martial might 
He takes to follow him in fight : 
The rest drop down the stream, to bear 
Iulus tidings how they fare, 
His father and the cause. 
Kach has his steed of all the train 
That marches to the Tuscan plain ; 
A charger for the chief is led 
With tawny lion’s hide bespread 
That shines with gilded claws. 
19 


290 THE AENEID. 


Fame to the little town relates 

The horse are marching to the gates. 

The matrons with redoubled zeal 

Make vows to Heaven in wild appeal 3 

Fear closer treads on danger’s heel, 
And larger looms the fray ; 

The tears roll down Evander’s face, 

He holds his child in strict embrace, 
And thus begins to say : 

“ Ah! would but Jupiter restore 

The strength I had in days of yore, 

When conqueror in Preeneste’s fields 

I fired a pile of foemen’s shields 

And hurried with my own right hand 

King Erulus to the darksome land : 

Three lives inspired that monstrous frame 

When from Feronia’s womb he came: 

Three swords he wielded ’gainst the foe : 

Three deaths it cost to lay him low: 

Yet thrice this hand shed out his gore, 

And thrice stripped off the arms he wore. 

Ah! never then should war’s alarms 

Dispart me from my darling’s arms, 

Nor had Mezentius done despite 

So foully to a neighbor’s right, 

Or made my widowed city feel 

The havoc of his ruthless steel. 

Yet O ye Gods, and O great Jove, 

IHlave pity on a father’s love 
And hear Evander’s prayer: 

If ’tis your purpose to restore 

My Pallas to my arms once more} 

If living is to see his face, 

Then grant me life, of your dear grace, 
No toil too hard to bear. 

But ah! if Fortune be my foe, 


BOOK VIII. 291 


And meditate some crushing blow, 

Now, now the thread in mercy break, 

While hope sees dim and cares mistake, 
While still I clasp thee darling boy, 

My latest and my only joy, 

Nor let assurance, worse than fear, 

With cruel tidings wound my ear.” 

His speech grows faint, his limbs give way 3 
His slaves their master home convey. 


Now through the open gates at last 
The mounted company had passed : 
neas and Achates lead : 

The other lords of Troy succeed. 
Young Pallas in the midst is seen 
With broidered scarf and armor sheen : 
Like Lucifer, the day-spring’s star, 
To radiant Venus dearest far 
Of all the sons of light, 
When, bathed in ocean’s wave, he rears 
His sacred presence ’mid the spheres, 
And dissipates the night. 
The matrons on the rampart stand : 
Their straining eyes pursue 
The dusty cloud, the mail-clad band 
Yet glimmering on the view. 
Through thicket and entangled brake 
The nearest road the warriors take, 
And hark ! the war-cry’s sound: 
The column forms, and horny feet 
Recurrently the champaign beat 
And shake the crumbling ground 
A grove by Cere’s river grows ; 
Ancestral reverence round it throws 
A terror far and wide : 
The shelving hills around have made 


299 THE ENEID. 


A girdle for the pine-wood shade, 

Set close on every side. 

*T was there Pelasgian tribes, men say, 

Who dwelt in Latium’s clime of old, 
Kept good Silvanus’ holiday, 

The guardian god of field and fold. 
Hard by encamped there held their post 
Brave Tarchon and his Tyrrhene host, 
And from the hill-top might be seen 
Their legions stretching o’er the green : 
The Trojans join them on the mead, 
And seek refreshment, man and steed. 


But careful Venus, heavenly fair, 
Had journeyed through the clouds of air, 
Her present in her hands: 
Deep in the vale her son she spied 
Reposing by the river-side, 
And thus before bim stands: 
“Lo thus the Gods their word fulfil; 
Behold the arms my husband’s skill 
Has fashioned in a day: 
Fear not conclusions soon to try 
With Latium’s braggarts, but defy 
E’en Turnus to the fray.” 
Then to her son’s embrace she flew : 
The armor ’neath an oak in view 
She placed all dazzling bright. 
He, glorying in the beauteous prize, 
From point to point quick darts his eyes 
With ever-new delight. 
Now wondering ’twixt his hands he turns 
The helm that like a meteor burns, 
The sword that rules the war, 
The breastplate shooting bloody rays, 
As dusky clouds in sunlight blaze, 


BOOK VIII. 993 


Refulgent from afar, 
The polished greaves of molten gold, 
The spear, the shield with fold on fold, 
A prodigy of art untold.* 
There, prescient of the years to come, 
Italia’s times, the wars of Rome, 

The fire’s dark lord had wrought: 
F’en from Ascanius’ dawning days 
The generations he portrays, 

The fights in order fought, 
There too the mother wolf he made 
In Mars’s cave supinely laid: 
Around her udders undismayed 

The gamesome infants hung, 
While she, her loose neck backward thrown, 
Caressed them fondly, one by one, 

And shaped them with her tongue. 
Hard by, the towers of Rome he drew, 
And Sabine maids in public view 

Snatched ’mid the Circus games : 
So ’twixt the fierce Romulean brood 
And Tatius with his Cures rude 

A sudden war upflames. 
And now the kings, their conflict o’er, 
Stand up in arms Jove’s shrine before, 
From goblets pour the sacred wine, 


* In translating the description of the shield, I have 
endeavored to bear in mind, what I believe to be of 
great importance to the interpretation of the passage, 
that the various events of Roman history are repre- 
sented, not in the precise way in which they are likely 
to have happened historically, but in the form supposed 
to be best adapted to tell the story to the eye. So the 
epithets do not characterize the persons or things as 
they are in themselves, but as they appear on the shield : 
e.g. the Gauls’ hair is called golden because it is actually 
of gold. 


994 THE ENKID. 


And make their peace o’er bleeding swine. 

There t6o was Mettus’ body torn 

By four-horse cars asunder borne ; 

Ah, well for thee, had promise sworn, 
False Alban, held thee true! 

And Tullus dragged the traitor’s flesh 

Through wild and wood: the briars looked fresh 
With sprinkled gory dew. 

Porsenna there with pride elate 

Bids Rome to Tarquin ope her gate: 

With arms he hems the city in: 

Afneas’ sons stand firm to win 
Their freedom with their blood : 

Enraged and menacing his air, 

That Cocles dares the bridge to tear, 

And Cleelia breaks her bonds, bold fair, 
And swims across the flood. 

There Manlius on Tarpeian steep 

Stood firm, the Capitol to keep : 

The ancient palace-roof you saw 

New bristling with Romulean straw. 

A silver goose in gilded walls 

With flapping wings announce the Gauls; 

And through the wood the invaders crept, 

And climbed the height while others slept. 

Golden their hair on head and chin: 

Gold collars deck their milk-white skin : 
Short cloaks with colors checked 

Shine on their backs: two spears each wields 

Of Alpine make: and oblong shields 
Their brawny limbs protect. 

Luperci here of raiment stripped 
And dancing Salii move, 

And flamens with their caps wool-tipped, 
And shields that fell from Jove ; 

And high-born dames parade the streets 





BOOK VIII. 


In pensile cars with cushioned seats. 
Far off he sets the gates of Dis, 
And Tartarus’ terrible abyss, 

And dooms to guilt assigned: 
There Catiline on frowning steep 
Hangs poised above the infernal deep 

With Fury-forms behind: 

And righteous souls apart he draws, 
With Cato there to give them laws. 
°T wixt these in wavy outline rolled 
The swelling ocean, all of gold, 

Though hoary showed the spray : 
Gay dolphins, sheathed in silver scales, 
Lash up the water with their tails, 

And ’mid the surges play. 

There in the midmost meet the sight 

The embattled fleets, the Actian fight: 

Leucate flames with warlike show, 

And golden-red the billows glow. 

Here Cesar, leading from their home 

The fathers, people, gods of Rome, 
Stands on the lofty stern ; 

The constellation of his sire 

Beams o’er his head, and tongues of fire 

About his temples burn, 

With favoring Gods and winds to speed 

Agrippa forms his line: 

The golden beaks, war’s proudest meed, 

High on his forehead shine. 

There with barbaric troops increased, 
Antonius, from the vanquished East, 

And distant Red sea-side, 

To battle drags the Bactrian bands 
And Egypt; and behind him stands 

(Foul shame !) the Egyptian bride. 

Each from his moorings, on they pour, 


295 


296 THE AINEID. 


And three-toothed beak and back-drawn oar 
Plow up in foam the marble floor. 
Who saw had deemed that Cyclads, torn 
From their firm roots, were onward borne 
Colliding on the surge, 
That hills with hills in conflict meet : 
The mighty chiefs their tower-armed fleet 
With such propulsion urge. 
With hand or enginery they throw 
Live darts ablaze with fiery tow: 
The sea-god’s verdant fields look red, 
Incarnadined with heaps of dead. 
Her native timbrel in her hand, 
The queen to battle calls her band, 
Infatuate !—nor perceives as yet 
Two snakes behind with fangs a-whet. 
Anubis and each monster strange 
That Egypt’s land reveres 
’Gainst Neptune, Venus, Pallas range. 
And shake their uncouth spears. 
There where they battle, host and host, 
taves grisly Mars, in steel embossed : 
The furies frown on high ; 
With mantle rent glad Discord walks, 
Bellona fierce behind her stalks, 
Her scourge of crimson dye. 
Then Actian Phebus bends his bow: 
Scared by that terror, flies the foe, 
Arabia, Egypt, Ind: 
The haughty dame in wild defeat 
Is shaking out her loosened sheet, 
And standing to the wind. 
She, wanning o’er with death foreseen, 
Through corpses flies, devoted queen, 
3y wave and Zephyr sped: 
While mighty Nile, through all his frame 


BOOK VIII. 297 


Deep shuddering for his people’s shame, 
His ample vesture opened wide, 
Invites the vanquished host to hide 
Within his azure bed. 
Cesar, of triple triumph proud, 
Pays to Rome’s gods the gift he vowed, 
Three hundred fanes of stone ; 
The live streets ring with shouts and games: 
Each shrine is thronged by grateful dames, 
Each floor with victims strown. 
Himself, bright Phoebus’ gate before, 
At leisure tells the offerings o’er, 
And fastens on the gorgeous door 
The first-fruits of the prey: 
There march the captives, all and each, 
In garb as diverse as in speech, 
A multiforin array. 
The houseless Nomad there is shown, 
And Afric tribes that wear no zone, 
And Morini, extreme of men, 
And Dahe, masterless till then : 
Gelonians too, with bended bows, 
And Leleges, and Carian foes : 
Euphrates droops his head, and flows 
With less of billowy pride: 
Old Rhine extends his branching horns, 
And passion-chafed Araxes scorns 
The bridge that spans his tide. 
Such legends traced on Vulcan’s shield 
The wondering chief surveys: 
On truth in symbol half revealed 
He feasts his hungry gaze, 
And high upon his shoulders rears 
The fame and fates of unborn years, 


998 THE AINEID, 


BOOK IX. 


ARGUMENT.—Turnus takes advantage of A‘neas’ ab- 
sence, fires some of his ships (which are transformed 
into séa-nymphs), and assaults hiscamp. The Trojans, 
reduced to the last extremities, send Nisusand Euryalus 
to recall Aineas ; which furnishes the poet with that 
admirable episode of their friendship, generosity, and 
the conclusion of their adventures. 


Wuite elswhere thus the war proceeds, 

Saturnian Juno swifty speeds 

Her Iris from above 
To valiant Turnus: Turnus then 
Was sitting in a hallowed glen, 

His sire Pilumnus’ grove : 
And thus the child of Thaumas speaks, 
Heaven’s beauty flushing in her cheeks: 
“'Turnus, what never god would dare 
To promise to his suppliant’s prayer, 
Lo here, the lapse of time has brought 
E’en to your hands, unasked, unsought. 
/Eneas camp and fleet forsakes 
And journey to Evander takes, 
Nor thus content, his way has found 
To far Cortona’s utmost bound, 
The Lydian people calls to arms, 
And musters all the rustic swarms. 
Why longer wait ? the moment flies : 
Call horse and car: the camp surprise.” 
E’en as she spoke, her wings she spread, 
And skyward on her rainbow fled. 
The ardent youth the goddess knew: 

His hands to heaven he rears, 


BOOK IX. 299 


And thus pursues her, as from view 
Aloft she disappears : 
“ Fair Iris, glory of the sky, 
Who sent thee thither from on high ? 
What means this sudden light ? 
I see the heavens dispart in twain, 
And round the pole the starry train 
Is swimming in my sight. 
Enough: I follow this thy sign, 
Whoe’er thou art, O power divine!” 
So speaking, to the wave he hied, 
Scooped in his palms the brimming tide, 
In suppliance to the immortal bows, 
And burdens heaven with uttered vows. 


And now the host is on the plain, 
With steeds, and gold, and broidered grain: 
Messapus the front rank arrays : 
The hinder Tyrrheus’ sons obeys: 
The midmost are by Turnus led : 
So rising in serene repose 
Great Ganges rears his seven-fold head ; 
So Nile from off the champion flows 
And sinks into his bed. 
Troy’s sons look forth, and see revealed 
Black dust-clouds moving o’er the field: 
And first from off the fronting mole 
Aloud Caicus calls: 
“ What murky clouds are these that roll ? 
Fetch weapons, man the walls! 
See there, the foe!” And one and all 
Pour through the gates and fill the wall. 
For such Afneas’ last command, 
What time he stood to go, 
Should chance meanwhile surprise his band, 
To wage no conflict hand to hand, 


800 THE ARNEID. 


But safe behind the rampart stand, 
And thence direct the blow. 
So now, though shame and scornful rage, 
Quick blending, prompt them to engage, 
They act his bidding, close the gate, 
And armed, in sheltering towers await 
The coming of the foe. 
Turnus with twice ten chosen horse 
Outstrips his column’s tardy course, 
And nears them unforeseen : 
A Thracian steed he rides, white-flecked, 
With auburn crest his helm is decked, 
Itself of golden sheen. 
And “ Gallants, who with me will dare 
The first assault?” he cries: “look there!” 
Then sends his javelin through the air 
(This the first drop of war’s red rain), 
And tower-like bears him o’er the plain. 
Clamorous and eager to attack, 
His comrades follow at his back ; 
The Teucrian hearts, they deem, are slack, 
Their valor laid asleep: 
They dare not trust the level space 
Or fight as men do, face to face, 
But still the encampment keep. 
So round and round the camp he wheels 
Enraged, and for an entrance feels : 
Like wolf, who, ranging round the fold, 
Whines at the gate, in rain and cold, 
At midnight’s seasons still : 
Safe “neath their dams the lambkins bleat: 
He rages in infuriate heat 
At those he cannot kill, 
With hunger’s gathered flame unslaked 
And bloodless jaws to dryness baked. 
Thus while he wall and camp surveys, 


BOOK IX. 


The fire of wrath begins to blaze, 
Grief burns in every vein: 
What way may access best be found 
To dash the Trojans from their mound 
And fling them on the plain? 
The fleet that lay upon their flank, 
Deep shored within the river-bank, 
He first assails, and calls aloud 
For torches to the exulting crowd, 
And with a flaming pine-tree brand, 
Himself on flame, supplies his hand. 
Then, then, by Turnus’ presence spurred, 
They ply the work, and at the word 
Each waves a torch on fire: 
The hearths are stripped, and pitchy glare 
And soot and vapor through the air 
In flaky wreaths aspire. 


What God, ye Muses, stayed the fire, 
And saved the barks from fate so dire ? 
Declare: the tale long since was told, 
But fame is green, though faith be old, 
When first A%neas on the height 
Of Ida built his ships for flight, 

The Berecyntine queen, ’tis said, 

Her suit before the Thunderer pled : 

“ My son, thy mother’s prayer accord, 
Throned by her help Olympus’ lord. 

On Ida’s summit once was mine, 

Loved through long years, a grove of pine, 
Where worshipers their homage paid, 
With pitch-trees dark and maple shade: 
These to the Dardan chief I gave 

When ships he sought to cross the wave ; 
I gave, and in the gift was glad: 

But now their future makes me sad 


301 


302 THE ZENEID. 


Release me from my fears: concede 
The object of a parent’s need: 
Grant that their texture ne’er may fail 
From voyage long or stormy gale: 
Such vantage let my favorites reap 
From birth on our Idzan steep.” 
Her son, the Mighty One, replies, 
Who rolls the orbits of the skies : 
“OQ mother! wherefore strive in vain 
The course of destiny to strain ? 
Shall vessels made by mortal hand 
The immortals’ privilege command ? 
Shall man ride safe in danger’s hour ? 
Claimed ever God so vast a power ? 
Nay rather, when, their service o’er, 
They reach at length the Ausonian shore, 
What ships, escaping wind and wave, 
In Latium land the Dardan brave, 
Shall change their morta] shape for ours 
And swim the main as sea-god powers, 
As Galaté and Doto sweep 
O’er the broad surface of the deep.” 
He said, and called to seal his vow 
His Stygian brother’s lake, 
The banks where pitch and sand and mud 
Together mix their murky flood, 
And with the bending of his brow 
Made all Olympus shake. 


And now the promised time was come, 
The fated years had filled their sum, 
When Turnus’ wrong reminds the dame 
To shield her sacred ships from flame. 

A sudden light strikes blind their eyes: 
A cloud runs westward o’er the skies, 
And Ida’s choirs appear : 


BOOK IX. 303 


An awful voice through ether thrills, 
The ranks of either army fills, 
And deafens every ear: 
“ Forbear your weapons to employ 
To guard my ships, ye sons of Troy: 
Know, Turnus’ fire shall burn the seas 
Or ere it touch my sacred trees : 
Go free, my favorites: loose your bands: 
Be Ocean-nymphs: your queen commands.” 
At once they burst their cords and dip, 
Like dolphins, each with brazen tip 
Down plunging ’neath the flood ; 
Then all in maiden forms emerge, 
Swim out to sea and breast the surge, 
As many as on the river’s verge 
Had erst in order stood. 


In wonder gaze the Rutule crowd: 

Messapus’ valiant self is cowed: 
His horses start and leap: 

The river falters, sounding hoarse, 

Old Tiber, and retracks his course, 
Nor hurries to the deep. 

Yet Turnus still is undismayed, 

Still prompt to cheer or to upbraid : 

« At Troy, at Troy these portents aim: 
See, Jove has ta’en away 

The means of flight, her wonted game: 

For Rutule sword and Rutule flame 
Her navy will not stay. 

No path for her across the sea: 

She has no hope to ’scape us, she: 
One-half her world is gone: 

Ourselves are masters of the land ; 

Such multitudes beside us stand, 
Italians every one. 





304 THE ALNEID. 


They scare not me, those words of heaven, 
The voice of Fate from temples given, 
Which Phrygia’s exiles boast: 
Venus and Fate have reaped their due 
In bringing safe the wandering crew 
To our Ausonian coast. 
I too have had my fate assigned, 
To sweep the miscreants from mankind 
Who rob me of my spouse : 
Not only Atreus’ sons can feel, 
Nor Greece alone can draw the steel 
For breach of marriage vows. 
Yet once to suffer may suffice : 
What ailed them then to trespass twice ? 
One taste of crime should leave behind 
A loathing for the female kind. 
Behold, their confidence they ground 
On balking trench and mediate mound, 
Remove from death a span! 
And saw they not sink down in flame 
Their Ilium’s walls, albeit the frame 
Of powers more strong than man? 
But you, my warriors, who will dare 
Rush on with me, the fence down-tear, 
The trembling camp invade ? 
No Vulcan’s arms, no thousand sail 
’Gainst Troy are needed to prevail : 
Nay, let Etruria weight the scale 
And lend them all her aid. 
Palladium ravished from the tower, 
Its warders stabbed at midnight’s hour, 
Such feats they need not fear: 
We will not shulk in horse’s womb: 
Our fires shall wrap their walls with doom 
In daylight broad and clear. 
Trust me, they shall not think to say 


“BOOK IX. 305 


They deal with Danaans weak as they, 

Whom Hector’s prowess kept at bay 
_E’en to the tenth long year. 

And now, since day’s best hours are spent, 

Let deeds well done your hearts content, 

Recruit your weary frames, and know 

The morn shall see us strike the blow.” 


Meanwhile Messapus has to set 
About the gates a living net, 

And kindle fires around : 

Twice seven Rutulian chiefs he calls 
Armed watch to keep beside the walls: 
A hundred youths each chief obey : 
Their helmets shoot a golden ray, 

With crests of purple crowned. 
They shift their posts, relieve the guard: 
Then stretch them on the grassy sward, 
To Bacchus open all their soul, 
And tilt full off the brazen bowl. 
Throughout the night the watch-fires flame, 
And all is revel, noise, and game. 
Forth look the Trojans from their mound ; 
They see the leaguer stretching round, 

And keep the rampart manned, 
In anxious fear the gates inspect, 
With bridges wall and tower connect, 

And muster, spear in hand. 

Bold Mnestheus and Serestus brave, 
To whose tried hands Afneas gave, 
Should aught arise of sterner need, 
To rule the state, the battle lead, 

Press on, now here, now there: 
Along the walls the gathered host 
Keep tireless watch from post to post, 

Each taking danger’s share, 

20 


306 THE AENEID. 


Nisus was guardian of the gate, 
No bolder heart in war’s debate, 
The son of Hyrtacus, whom Ide 
Sent, with his quiver at his side, 
From hunting beasts in mountain brake 
To follow in Atneas’ wake : 
With him Euryalus, fair boy ; 
None fairer donned the arms of Troy; 
His tender cheek as yet unshorn 
And blossoming with youth new-born. 
Love made them one in every thought: 
In battle side by side they fought ; 
And now on duty at the gate 
The twain in common station wait. 
“ Can it be heaven,” said Nisus then, 
“ That lends such warmth to hearts of men, 
Or passion surging past control 
That plays the god to each one’s soul! 
Long time, impatient of repose, 
My swelling heart within me glows, 
And yearns its energy to fling 
On war, or some yet grander thing. 
See there the foe, with vain hope flushed ! 
Their lights are scant, their stations hushed: 
Unnerved by slumber and by wine, 
Their bravest chiefs are stretched supine. 
Now to my doubting thought give heed 
And listen where its motions lead. 
Our Trojan comrades, one and all, 
Cry loud, Aneas to recall, 
And where, they say, the men to go 
And let him of our peril know ? 
Now, if the meed I ask they swear 
To give you—nay, I claim no share, 

Content with bare renown— 

Meseems, beside yon grassy heap 





BOOK IX. : 307 


The way I well might find and keep 

To Pallanteum’s town.” 
The youth returns, while thirst of praise 
Infects him with a strange amaze: 
“Can Nisus aim at heights so great, 
Nor take his friend to share his fate ? 
Shall I look on, and let you go 
Alone to venture ’mid the foe ? 
Not thus my sire Opheltes, versed 
In war’s rude toil, my childhood nursed, 
When Argive terror filled the air 
And Troy was battling with despair: 
Nor such the lot my youth has tried, 
In hardship ever at your side, 
Since, great Aineas’ liegeman sworn, 
I followed Fortune to her bourne: 
Here, here within this bosom burns 
A soul that mere existence spurns, 
And holds the fame you seek to reap, 
Though bought with life, were bought full cheap.” 


“ Not mine the thought,” brave Nisus said, 
“To wound you with so base a dread: 
So may great Jove, or whosoe’er 
Marks with just eyes how mortals fare, 
Protect me going, and restore 
In triumph to your arms once more. 
But if—for many a chance, you wis, 
Besets an enterprise like this— 

If acc#dent or power divine 

The scheme to adverse end incline, 
Your life at least I would prolong: 
Death does your years a deeper wrong. 
Leave me a friend to tomb my clay, 
Rescued or ransomed, which you may ; 
Or, e’en that boon should chance refuse, 


308 THE ASNEID. 


To pay the absent funeral dues. 
Nor let me cause so dire a smart 
To that devoted mother’s heart. 
Who, sole of all the matron train, 
Attends her darling o’er the main, 
Nor cares like others to sit down 
An inmate of Acestes’ town.” 
He answers brief: “ Your pleas are naught: 
Firm stands the purpose of my thought: 
Come, stir we: why so slow?” 
Then calls the guards to take their place, 
Moves on by Nisus, pace with pace, 
And to the prince they go. 


All other creatures wheresoe’er 
Were stretched in sleep, forgetting care : 
Troy’s chosen chiefs in high debate 
Were pondering o’er the reeling state, 
What means to try, or whom to speed 
To warn Afneas of their need. 
There stand they, midway in the field, 
Still hold the spear, still grasp the shield: 
When Misus and his comrade brave 
With eager tones admittance crave ; 
The matter high; though time be lost, 
The occasion well were worth the cost. 
Tulus hails the impatient pair, 
Bids Nisus what they wish declare. 
Then spoke the youth: “ Chiefs ! lend your ears, 
Nor judge our proffer by our years. " 
The Rutules, sunk in wine and sleep, 
Have ceased their former watch to keep: 
A stealthy passage have we spied 
Where on the sea the gate opes wide: 
The line of fires is scant and broke, 
And thick and murky rolls the smoke, 


BOOK IX. 


Give leave to seek, in these dark hours, 
Aneas at Evander’s towers, 

Soon will you see us here again 

Decked with the spoils of slaughtered men. 
Nor strange the road: ourselves have seen 
The city, hid by valleys green, 

Just dimly dawning, and explored 

In hunting all the river-board.” 

Out spoke Aletes, old and gray : 

“Ye gods, who still are Ilium’s stay, 

No, no, ye mean not to destroy 

Down to the ground the race of Troy, 
When such the spirit of her youth, 

And such the might of patriot truth.” 
Then, as the tears roll down his face, 

He clasps them both in strict embrace: 

“ Brave warriors! what reward so great 
For worth like yours to compensate ? 


From Heaven and from your own true heart 


Expect the largest, fairest part: 

The rest, and at no distant day, 

The good Atneas shall repay, 

Nor he, the royal youth, forget 
Through all his life the mighty debt.” 
“ Nay, hear me too,” Ascanius cried, 
“ Whose life is with my father’s tied: 
O Nisus! by the home-god powers 
We jointly reverence, yours and ours, 
The god of ancient Capys’ line, 

And Vesta’s venerable shrine, 

By these dread sanctions I appeal 

To you, the masters of my weal ; 

O bring me back my sire again! 
testore him, and I feel no pain. 

Two massy goblets will I give ; 

Rich sculptures on the silver live ; 


309 


310 THE A‘NEID. 


The plunder of my sire, 
What time he took Arisba’s hold; 
Two chargers, talents twain of gold, 
A bowl beside of antique mold 
By Dido brought from Tyre. 
Then too, if ours the lot to reign 
Or Italy, by conquest ta’en, 
And each man’s spoil assign,— 
Saw ye how Turnus rode yestreen, 
His horse and arms of golden sheen ? 
That horse, that shield and glowing crest 
I separate, Nisus, from the rest 
And count already thine. 
Twelve female slaves, at your desire, 
Twelve captives with their arms entire, 
My sire shall give you, and the plain 
That forms Latinus’ own domain. 
But you, dear youth, of worth divine, 
Whose blooming years are nearer mine, 
Ilere to my heart I take, and choose 
My comrade for whate’er ensues. 
No glory will I e’er pursue, 
Unmotived by the thought of you : 
Let peace or war my state befall, 
Thought, word, and deed, you share them all.” 
The youth replied: “No after day 
This hour’s fair promise shall betray,* 
Be Fate but kind. Yet let me claim 
One favor, more than all you name: 
A mother in the camp is mine, 
Derived from Priam’s ancient line: 
No home in Sicily or Troy 
Has kept her from her darling boy. 
She knows not, she, the paths I tread: 
* ** A)l, all my life, replies the youth, shall aim, 
Like this one hour, at everlasting fame.” PITT, 


BOOK IX. 311 


I leave her now, no farewell said ; 

By Night and this your hand I swear, 

A parent’s tears I could not bear. 

Vouchsafe your pity, and engage 

To solace her unchilded age : 

And I shall meet whate’er betide 

By such assurance fortified.” 

With sympathy and tender grief 

All melt in tears, [ulus chief, 

As filial love in other shown 

Recalled the semblance of his own : 

And, “ Tell your doubting heart,” he cries, 

“ All blessings wait your high emprise : 

I take your mother for my own, 

Creusa, save in name alone, 

Nor lightly deem the affection due 

To her who bore a child like you. 

Come what come may, I plight my troth 

By this my head, my father’s oath, 

The bounty to yourself decreed. 

Should favoring Gods your journey speed, 

The same shall in your line endure, 

To parent and to kin made sure.” 

He spoke, and weeping still, untied 

A gilded falchion from his side, 

Lycaon’s work, the man of Crete, 

With sheath of ivory complete : 

Brave Mnestheus gives for Nisus’ wear, 

A lion’s hide with shaggy hair ; 

Aletes, old in danger grown, 

His helmet takes, and gives his own. 

Then to the gates, as forth they fare, 

The band of chiefs with many a prayer 
The gallant twain attends : 

Iulus, manlier than his years, 

Oft whispering, for his father’s ears 


319 THE ASNEID. 


Full many a message sends : 
But be it message, be it prayer, 
Alike ’tis lost, dispersed in air. 


The trenches past, through night’s deep gloom 
The hostile camp they near : 
Yet many a foe shall meet his doom 
Or ere that hour appear. 
There see they bodies stretched supine, 
O’ercome with slumber and with wine 3 
The cars, unhorsed, are drawn up high ; 
*T wixt wheels and harness warriors lie, 
With arms and goblets on the grass 
In undistinguishable mass. 
“ Now,” Nisus cries, “ for hearts and hands: 
This, this the hour our force demands. 
Here pass we: yours the rear to mind, 
Lest hostile arm be raised behind ; 
Myself will go before and slay, 
While carnage opes a broad highway.” 
So whispers he with bated breath, 
And straight begins the work of death 
On Rhamnes, haughty lord : 
On rugs he lay, in gorgeous heap, 
From all his bosom breathing sleep, 
A royal seer, by Turnus loved : 
But all too weak his seer-craft proved 
To stay the rushing sword. 
Three servants next the weapon found 
Stretched ’mid their armor on the ground : 
Then Remus, charioteer he spies 
Beneath the coursers as he lies, 
And lops his downdropt head : 
The ill-starred master next he leaves, 
A headless trunk that gasps and heaves : 
Forth spouts the blood from every vein, 


BOOK 1X. 313 


And deluges with crimson rain 
Green earth and broidered bed. 
Then Lamyrus and Lamus died, 
Serranus too, in youth’s fair pride : 
That night had seen him long at play : 
Now by the dream-god tamed he lay : 
Ah! had his play but matched the night, 
Nor ended till the dawn of light! 
So famished lion uncontrolled 
Makes havoc through the teeming fold, 
As frantic hunger craves ; 
Mangling and hurrying far and near 
The meek mild victims, mute with fear, 
With gory jaws he raves. 
Nor less Euryalus performs : 
The thirst of blood his bosom warms ; 
’*Mid nameless multitudes he storms, 
Herbesus, Fadus, Abaris kills 
Slumbering and witless of their ills, 
While Rheetus wakes and sees the whole, 
But hides behind a massy bowl. 
There, as to rise the trembler strove, 
Deep in his breast the sword he drove, 
And bathed in death withdrew. 
The lips disgorge the life’s red flood, 
A mingled stream of wine and blood : 
He plies his blade anew. 
Now turns he to Messapus’ band, 
For there the fires he sees 
Burnt out, while coursers hard at hand 
Are browsing at their ease, 
When Nisus marks the excess of zeal, 
The maddening fever of the steel,* 


* T hope it will not be supposed that I mean ‘‘ fever 
of the steel” as a version of ‘‘cupidine ferri.” There 
is another suspicion of the kind which I feel almost 


314 THE ASNEID. 


And checks him thus with brief appeal : 
“ Forbear we now ; ‘twill soon be day : 
Our wrath is slaked, and hewn our way.” 
Full many a spoil they leave behind 
Of solid silver thrice refined, 
Armor and bowls of costliest mold 
And rugs in rich confusion rolled. 
A belt Euryalus puts on 
With golden knobs, from Rhamnes won : 
Of old by Ceedicus ’twas sent, 
An absent friendship to cement, 
To Remulus, fair Tiber’s lord, 
Who, dying, to his grandson left 
The shining prize : the Rutule sword 
Inafter days the trophy reft. 
Athwart his manly chest in vain 
He binds these trappings of the slain ; 
Then ’neath his chin in triumph laced 
Messapus’ helm with plumage graced. 
The camp at length they leave behind, 
And round the lake securely wind. 


Meanwhile a troop is on its way, 

From Latium’s city sped, 

An offshoot from the host that lay 

Along the plain in close array, 

Three hundred horsemen, sent to bring 

A message back to Turnus king, 
With Volscens at their head. 

Now to the camp they draw them nigh, 
Beneath the rampart’s height, 


ashamed to rebut, with reference to a line in p. 372, 
where, though ‘‘ encumbered and unstrung” is I trust 
a tolerable equivalent for ‘inutillis inque ligatus,” 
‘ inligatus”’ is not intended to be represented by ‘‘ un- 
strung.” 


BOOK Ix. 315 


When from afar the twain they spy, 
Still steering from the right ; 
The helmet through the glimmering shade 
At once the unwary boy betrayed, 
Seen in the moon’s full light. 
Not lost the sight on jealous eyes : 
« Ho! stand! who are ye ?” Volscens cries 3 
s Whence come, or whither tend ?” 
No movement deign they of reply, 
But swifter to the forest fly, 
And make the night their friend. 
With fatal speed the mountain foes 
Kach avenue as with network close, 
And every outlet bar. 
It was a forest bristling grim 
With shade of ilex, dense and dim: 
Thick brushwood all the ground o’ergrew: 
The tangled ways a path ran through, 
Faint glimmering like a star. 
The darkling boughs, the cumbering prey 
Euryalus’s flight delay : 
His courage fails, his footsteps stray : 
But Nisus onward flees ; 
No thought he takes, till now at last 
The enemy is all o’erpast, 
Hen at the grove, since Alban called 
Where then Latinus’ herds were stalled : 
Sudden he pauses, looks behind 
In eager hope his friend to find: 
In vain ; no friend he sees. 
“ Kuryalus, my chiefest care, 
Where left I you, unhappy ? where ? 
What clue may guide my erring tread 
This leafy labyrinth back to thread ? 
Then, noting each remembered track, 
He thrids the wood, dim-seen and black, 


516 THE 2NEID. 


Listening, he hears the horse-hoots beat, 
The clatter of pursuing feet : 
A little moment—shouts arise. 
And lo! Euryalus he spies, 
Whom now the foeman’s gathered throng 
Is hurrying helplessly along, 
While vain resistance he essays, 
Trapped by false night and treacherous ways. 
What should he do? what force employ 
To rescue the beloved boy ? 
Plunge through the spears that line the wood, 
And death and glory win with blood ? 
Not unresolved, he poises soon 
A javelin, looking to the Moon: 
“Grant, Goddess, grant thy present aid, 
Queen of the stars, Latonian maid, 

The greenwood’s guardian power ; 
If, grateful for success of mine, 
With gifts my fire has graced thy shrine, 
If e’er myself have brought thee spoil, 
The tribute of my hunter’s toil, 
To ornament thy roof divine, 

Or glitter on thy tower, 
These masses give me to confound, 
And guide through air my random wound.” 
He spoke, and hurled with all his might ; 
The swift spear hurtles through the night : 
Stout Sulmo’s back the stroke receives: 
The wood, though snapped, the midriff cleaves. 
He falls, disgorging life’s warm tide, 
And long-drawn sobs distend his side. 
All gazed around : another spear 
The avenger levels from his ear, 

And launches on the sky. 
Tagus lies pierced through temples twain, 
The dart deep buried in his brain, 


BOOK IX. 317 


Fierce Volscens storms, yet finds no foe, 

Nor sees the hand that dealt the blow, 
Nor knows on whom to fly. 

“ Your heart’s warm blood for both shall pay,” 

He cries, and on his beauteous prey 
With naked sword he sprang. 

Scared, maddened, Nisus shrieks aloud : 

No more he hides in night’s dark shroud, 
Nor bears the o’erwhelming pang: 

Me, guilty me, make me your aim, 

O, Rutules! mine is all the blame ; 

He did no wrong, nor e’er could do; 

That sky, those stars attest ’tis true ; 

Love for his friend so freely shown, 

This was his crime, and this alone.” 

In vain he spoke: the sword fierce driven 

That alabaster breast had riven. 

Down falls Euryalus, and lies 

In death’s enthralling agonies: 

Blood trickles o’er his limbs of snow; 

“ His head sinks gradually low:” 

Thus, severed by the ruthless plow, 
Dim fades a purple flower : 

Their weary necks so poppies bow, 
O’erladen by the shower. 

But Nisus on the midmost flies, 

With Volscens,Volscens in his eyes: 

In clouds the warriors round him rise, 
Thick hailing blow on blow: 

Yet on he bears, no stint, no stay ; 

Like thunderbolt his falchion’s sway : 

Till as for aid the Rutule shrieks 

Plunged in his throat the weapon reeks: 

The dying hand has reft away 
The lifeblood of its foe. 

Then, pierced to death, asleep he fell 


318 THE AENEID. 


On the dead breast he loved so well.* 


Blest pair: if aught my verse avail, 
No day shall make your memory fail 
From off the heart of time, 
While Capitol abides in place, 
The mansion of the Afneian race, 
And throned upon that moveless base 
Rome’s father sits sublime. 


With conquest crowned, of trophies proud, 

The Rutule warriors, weeping loud, 
Slain Volscens campward bring: 

Nor fewer tears in camp are shed 

For Rhamnes and Serranus dead, 

By one fell stroke their noblest sped 
To darkness, chief and king. 

Crowds gather to the spot, where lie 

The bodies, dead or soon to die, 

And see the place afloat with blood 

And frothing gore in many a flood. 

From hand to hand they pass the spoil: 
Messapus’ helm they know, 

And trappings gay, with deadly toil 
%ecovered from the foe. 


Now, rising from Tithonus’ bed, 
The Dawn o’er earth her radiance spread: 
When all is flooded by the ray, 
And nature lies exposed to day, 
Bold Turnus, armed from head to heel, 
Inflames the warriors’ martial zeal: 
Each to his followers makes appeal, 

* “Then, quiet, on his bleeding bosom fell, 


Content in death to be revenged so well.” 
DRYDEN. 


BOOK IX. 319 


And goads them to engage: 
Moreover, fixed on lifted spears, 
(Where in that hour were human tears ?) 
Two gory heads they thrust to view, 
Euryalus’ and Nisus’ too, 

With cries of hate and rage. 

Troy’s iron sons array their fight 
On the left rampart—for the right 

Adjoins the river shore :— 

Above their breadth of moat they stood 

In lofty turrets, sad of mood: 

And horror on their spirit fell 

To see those heads they knew so well 
Dripping with loathly gore. 


Through the pale ranks ran winged Fame, 
And swiftly to the mother came 
Of lost Euryalus: the start 
Sent icy chillness to her heart: 
The thread was on the shuttle stopped, 
And from her hand the spindle dropped. 
She rends her hair : she shrieks aloud, 
And to the rampart and the crowd 
In wild distraction flies : 
No more the face of men she fears, 
The winged deaths, the showering spears, 
But fills the air with cries: 
“ Kuryalus! returned, and thus? 
And could you leave me lone, 
Mine age’s stay, in life’s late day ? 
O what a heart of stone! 
This perilous adventure seek, 
Nor farewell to your mother speak ? 
And you are lying, lying thrown 
To dogs and birds, ’neath skies unknown ;— 
And I, your mother, might not close 


390 THE AONEID. 


Your glassy eyes, your limbs compose, 

Nor wash the gore away, 

Nor robe you in that mantle fair, 
Which, solacing an old wife’s care, 
I hastened for my darling’s wear, 

Still spinning night and day! 
Where shall I seek you ? how reclaim 
Those headless limbs, that mangled frame ? 
This all? and was it this, ah me, 

I followed over land and sea ? 
O slay me, Rutules! if ye know 
A mother’s love, on me bestow 

The tempest of your spears ! 

Or thou, great Thunderer, pity take, 
And whelm me "neath the Stygian lake, 
Since otherwise I may not break 

This life of bitter tears! ” 

That wail the hearts of Troy congealed ; 

From rank to rank the infection ran ¢ 
Each sickens of the battle-field, 

And feels no longer man. 

Still raves the miserable dame, 

Still higher piles grief’s frantic flame : 
Iulus, shedding tears like rain, 

And old Ilioneus call their train, 
And Actor and Ideus come 

And bear her from the rampart home, 


Now shrills the trump its dire alarms: 

At once the warriors cry to arms: 
Heaven thunders back the note. 

The Volscian host a penthouse form, 
And. strive the palisade to storm 
And choke the gaping moat: 
Some try the approach, and ladders plant 
Where most the battle-line looks scant, 


BOOK IX. 321 


And the dark ring that crowns the wall 
Presents a glimmering interval. 
With equal zeal the sons of Troy 
Stout poles and missile darts employ, 
Taught by experience long and hard 
How best a leaguered wall to guard. 
Stones too with cruel weight they throw 
In hope to break the shielded foe : 
O, vainly sure all storms that blow 

Will rattle on that roof! 
See, see, at length it yields, it yields! 
Where threats the densest mass of shields 
A block the Trojans topple o’er: 

Down on the Rutule host it bore, 
Dashed wide their ranks behind, before, 
And burst their fence of proof, 

Cowed by the shock, the Rutules bold 

No more engage in fight blindfold, 
But with a missile tempest strive 
The foeman from his wall to drive. 
Elsewhere Mezentius, grim to see, 
Wields Tuscan pine-stock, tall as he, 
And heads the desperate attack 

With torch-fire vapors, pitchy black: 
While bold Messapus, Neptune’s seed, 
Imperious tamer of the steed, 

Tears down the palisade, and calls 
For ladders to ascend the walls. 


Now grant, Calliope, thine aid; 
Ye Muses, prompt my lay 
To tell what havoc Turnus made 
On that too bloody day, 
What gallant chiefs were hurled below 
And what the hands that dealt the blow. 
Be near, and help me to unroll 
2I 


399 THE Z2NEID. 


In length and breadth the martial scroll. 


Linked by strong bridges to the wall 
There rose a lofty tower: 
Ttalia’s warriors, one and all, 
Assail it, bent to work its fall, 
With utmost strain of power : 
The sons of Troy with stones defend, 
And through the narrowed eyelets send 
A furious steely shower. 
Fierce Turnus first a firebrand flings: 
It strikes the side, takes hold, and clings: 
The freshening breezes spread the blaze, 
And soon on plank and beam it preys. 
The inmates flutter in dismay 
And vainly wish to fly: 
There as they huddle and retire 
Back to the part which ’scapes the fire, 
Sudden the o’erweighted mass gives way, 
And falling, shakes the sky. 
Heavily to the ground they come 
In piteous ruin trailed, 
Some pierced with falling fragments, some 
On their own darts impaled. 
Unhurt, Helenor, sole of all, 
And Lycus issue from the fall: 
Helenor, whom Licymnia bare 
To Lydia’s king, a captive fair, 
And sent herself her blooming boy 
In interdicted arms to Troy, 
Trained up a naked sword to wield 
And bear a blank unblazoned shield. 
Soon as the Rutule hosts he found 
And Turnus’ squadrons close him round, 
As beast by hunter crowds beset 
Makes furious war on dart and net, 


BOOK IX. 323 


Full at the throat of danger flies 
And spiked on serried javelins dies, 
So leaps the warrior on the foe 
Where storms of iron deadliest blow. 
Not so young Lycus: swifter far 
He threads the windings of the war, 
Gripes the high wall with talon clutch, 
And strives his comrades’ hands to touch. 
With speed of foot and javelin’s throw 
Fierce Turnus follows on the foe: 
“Poor fool! couldst hope,” the conqueror cries, 
“To baffle Turnus of his prize?” 
Then grasps him hanging, and withal 
Plucks down a bulwark from the wall: 
So Jove’s fell bird bears off in air 
A snow-white swan or timorous hare: 
So from its vainly bleating dam 
Tears the gaunt wolf the folded lamb. 
Loud clamors rise: they charge once more, 
Break down the mound, the trench bridge o’er, 
Or to the topmost rampart throw 
Their brands of pinewood all aglow. 
There as Lucetius nears the gate 
And waves aloft the hostile flame, 
Ilioneus whelins him ’neath the weight 
Of rock that from a mountain came: 
Stout Liger brings Emathion low: 
Asilas Coryneus slays; 
That skilled the warlike lance to throw, 
This wings the arrow from the bow 
Through unsuspected ways. 
Ortygius lies by Ceneus slain: 
The victor yields to Turnus’ hands ; 
And Sagaris, Itys, Clonius fall, 
With Promolus, by Turnus all, 
And Idas, tumbled to the plain 


394 THE ZENEID. 


As on the wall he stands. 
Privernus finds from Capys’ death ; 
Themilla’s spear had grazed him first: 
He flings his buckler on the ground, 
And claps his hand upon the wound: 
Fond wretch! the arrow wings the wind, 
And to his side his hand is pinned, 
And through the vital springs of breath 
A deadly passage burst. 
There Arcens’ son stood, richly dight 
In broidered scarf with purple bright, 
Sent by his father to the fight, 
A youth of glorious show, 
Reared in his Oread mother’s wood, 
Beside Symeethus’ gentle flood, 
Where day by day with victim’s blood 
Palicus’ altars flow. 
No more his spear Mezentius hurled ; 
Thrice round his head his sling he whirled 
With shrill and whizzing sound : 
Sheer through the warrior’s temples sped 
With fatal aim the glowing lead ; 
He falls, and lies unnerved and dead 
O’er many a foot of ground. 


Then first, they say, Ascanius tried 

In battle-field his bow, 

Till then ’gainst flying silvans plied, 
And laid Numanus low : 

He late to his connubial bed 

Had Turnus’ youngest sister led: 

And now, of new-worn purple proud, 

He stalks erect, with vaunting loud, 

And thus before the battle’s van 

With wordy turbulence began: 

“ Twice-captured Phrygians! to be pent 


BOOK IX, 


eo 
bo 
or 


Once more in leaguered battlement, 
And plant unblushingly between 
Yourselves and death a stony screen! 
Lo, these the men that draw their swords 
To part our ladies from their lords! 
What god, what madness brings you here 
To taste of our Italian cheer? * 
No proud Atride lead our vans: 
No false Ulysses talks and plans: 
Hen from the birth a hardy brood, 
We take our infants to the flood, 
And fortify their tender mold 
With icy wave and ruthless cold. 
Early and late our sturdy boys 
Seek through the woods a hunter’s joys: 
Their pastime is to tame the steed, 
To bend the bow and launch the reed. 
Our youth, to scanty fare inured, 
Made strong by labor oft endured, 
Subdue the soil with spade and rake, 
Or city walls with battle shake. 
Through life we grasp our trusty spear: 
It strikes the foe, it goads the steer : 
Age cannot chill our valor: no, 
The helmet sits on locks of snow; 
And still we love to store our prey, 
And eat the fruits our arms purvey. 
You flaunt your robes in all men’s eyes, 
Your saffron and your purple dyes, 
Recline on downy couch, or weave 
The dreamy dance from morn to eve: 
Sleeved tunics guard your tender skins, 
And ribboned miters prop your chins. 

* «* What noble Lucumo comes next 


To taste our Roman cheer ?” 
MACAULAY’S Lays, 


296 THE ZENEID. 


Phrygians !—nay rather Phrygian fair ! 
Hence, to your Dindymus repair! 

Go where the flute’s congenial throat 
Shrieks through two doors its slender note, 
Where pipe and cymbal call the crew ; 
These are the instruments for you : 

Leave men, like us, in arms to deal, 

Nor bruise your lily hands with steel.” 


That ominous tongue, that boastful heart 

Ascanius could not bear : 

He drew the bowstring, poised the dart, 
And stood with outstretched arms apart, 

First calling Jove in prayer, 

“ Vouchsafe to bless, great Sire divine, 

Thy suppliant’s bold essay : 

My grateful hand before thy shrine 

Shall yearly offerings pay: 

A goodly bullock from the stall, 
Snow-white, his mother scarce so tall, 

Shall at thy altar stand: 

His horns, which gold shall overlay. 
E’en now anticipate the fray, 

His feet spurn up the sand.” 

Jove heard, and instant from the left 

He thundered through the blue: 
Instant the bow was heard to twang 5 
The shaft along the welkin sang, 
Numanus’ haughty head it clett, 

And pierced his temples through. 
“Go, vent on worth your idle taunts: 
Such answer to Rutulian vaunts 

Twice-captured Phrygians send !” 
Ascanius spoke: the sons of Troy 
Mount skyward in their rapturous joy, 

And heaven with shoutings rend. 


BOOK IX. 39 


Phebus that hour from heaven’s dim height 
Surveyed the fortunes of the fight, 
And thus from off his throne of cloud 
Bespoke the youthful victor proud : 
“Tis thus that men to heaven aspire: 
Go on, and raise your glories higher, 
Of Gods the son, of Gods the sire ! 
Beneath Assaracus’s seed 
The war-worn land shall cease to bleed, 
Nor may our narrow Troy contain 
The compass of so grand a reign.” 

So speaking, from the skies he darts, 

The fluttering air before him parts, 

And quickly to Ascanius hies, 

In Butes’ venerable guise. 

Once Butes kept Anchises’ door, 

Anchises’ arms in battle bore: 

No other cares his age employ, 

The guardian of the princely boy. 

So moves the God : voice, color, all, 

The veteran’s lineaments recall, 

The silvery honors of his head, 

His armor, resonant with dread ; 

And thus with words of mild control 

He calms that young ambitious soul: 

“Enough, Aneas’ son, to know 

Your hand, unharmed, with shaft and bow 
Numanus’ life has ta’en ; 

Such glory to your first of fields 

Your patron god ungrudging yields, 

Nor robs of praise the arms he wields; 
From further fight refrain.” 

So Phebus speaks, and speaking flies ; 

One moment beams on mortal eyes, 

Then mingles with the ambient skies. 

The Dardan chiefs the godhead knew ; 


=F 


598 THE AONEID. 


His flashing weapons caught their view: 
They heard his quiver as he flew. 
So now at great Apollo’s beck 
Ascanius’ martial zeal they check: 
Themselves renew the doubtful strife, 
And prodigally venture life. 
Rings through the camp the war-shout’s peal: 
They bend their bows and hurl the steel 
Which leathern thong impels: 
Spent javelins all the ground bestrow: 
Helmet and shield rebound the blow: 
A savage fight upswells. 
So furiously from westward sped, 
The Kid-star lowering overhead, 
Wild tempests lash the plain: 
So on the sea the hail falls fast, 
When Jove, dread lord of southern blast, 
His watery volleys flings broadcast, 
And opes the springs of rain. 


Pandarus and Bitias, brethren twain, 
Descended of Alcanor’s strain 
(Ieera bore them, nymph divine: 
Their stature matched the hill-side pine 
Or e’en the hills’ own height ), 
Throw wide the gate they held in charge, 
And trusting but to spear and targe 
The foe’s advance invite. 
Themselves within the gateway stand, 
Fronting the towers on either hand, 
Magnificent in steel array, 
And toss their plumes on high: 
So two fair oaks that proudly grow 
On banks of Athesis or Po 
Their unshorn heads aloft display 
And tower into the sky. 


BOOK IX. 829 


With eager joy the Rutules see 
The gates thrown wide, the entrance free, 
And pour by hundreds in: 
Full soon Aquicolus the fair, 
Stout Quercens, Hzemon, fiery Tmare, 
To flight with all their followers turn, 
Or with their heels the threshold spurn 
But now they thought to win: 
Fierce and more fierce the combat glows 3 
In gathering ranks the Trojans close, 
No further onset wait, 
But foot to foot defy their foes, 
And press beyond the gate. 


Meanwhile to Turnus, as afar 

On other parts he launches war 
And mars the foe’s array, 
Comes word that, flushed with blood new-shed, 
The sons of Troy forget their dread, 
And wide their gates display. 

Fell rage inspiring all his mind, 
The unfinished work he leaves behind, 
And rushes to the gates amain 
To cope with that presumptuous twain. 
First on Antiphates he bore, 
Whom chance had planted in the fore, 
The great Sarpedon’s spurious seed, 
Born of a dame of Theban breed. 
The cornel hurtles through the skies ; 
Straight to the stomach’s pit it flies, 
And lodges ’neath the bosom’s core, 
While the dark cavern wells with gore. 
Then Merops, Erymas the brave, 
And young Aphidnus find a grave, 
And Bitias, as with eyes aglow 
And bursting rage he fronts his foe; 


330 THE ASNEID. 


No dart was thrown: a puny dart 
Had scarcely reached that giant heart 3 
No, *twas a huge falaric spear, 
Thundering in levin-like career, 
That left the victor’s hand : 
Not two bull-hides, nor corslet mail, 
Though plaited twice with golden scale, 
The onset might withstand. 
The vast frame tumbles on the field ; 
Groans the jarred earth, loud clangs the shield. 
*Tis thus descends in later day 
The granite pile in Baiz’s bay, 
Compact of many a block: 
E’en thus, in mighty downfall sped, 
It sinks into the oozy bed 
With vast reverberant shock : 
Up mounts the sand from depths profound : 
Lone Prochyta perceives the sound 
Thrill deep through cave and rock, 
And Arime, by Jove’s behest 
Firm fixed on Typhon’s monster breast. 


Now Mars omnipotent imparts 
Fresh vigor to the Latian hearts, 
While on the Trojan band 
Dark fear he sends and coward flight : 
The Italians claim the proffered fight, 
And fury nerves each hand. 
When Pandarus saw his brother slain 
And knew the tide had ebbed again, 
He sets his shoulders to the gate 
And backward rolls the enormous weight, 
Leaving in miserable rout 
Full many a hapless friend shut out, 
While others through the entrance pour, 
And, saved from carnage, breathe once more. 


BOOK IX. 331 


Fond fool ! amidst the noise and din 

He saw not Turnus rushing in, 

But closed him in the embattled hold, 

A tiger in a helpless fold. 

From those fierce eyes new terrors blaze; 
His arms around him clash: 

The red plume on his helmet plays, 

And from his shield reflected rays 
Like living lightning flash. 

At once the trembling Trojans know 

The dreaded presence of their foe : 
But Pandarus onward flies : 

In his proud breast his brother’s fate 

Awakes the flames of rage and hate, 
And thus in scorn he cries: 

“ Not this Amata’s promised dower, 

Your royal dome, your bridal bower, 

Nor Ardea’s native town enthralls 

Her Turnus in her friendly walls: 

A hostile camp around you see, 

Shut in without the power to flee.” 

Then Turnus with untroubled mien: 

“ Begin, and let your strength be seen: 

Soon shall you tell in Priam’s ear 

You found a new Achilles here.” 

Strong Pandarus launches on the wind 

A knotted spear, unpeeled its rind, 
With mighty effort flung: 

Saturnia caught it as it came 

And turned it from its destined aim: 
Fixed in the gate it hung. 

“ Not thus shall err my trusty brand, 

Sped by a surer, stronger hand: ” 

Then, rising tiptoe as he speaks, 
Turnus uplifts the falchion keen: 

With force resistless sweeping down 


332 THE ANEID. 


It crashes on the warrior’s crown, 
And ample brows and beardless cheeks 
Are severed clear and clean. 
At once the mighty ruin sounds ; 
The firm earth trembles and rebounds ; 
His armor, splashed with blood and brain, 
His giant members load the plain : 
On either shoulder, cleft in twain, 
The ghastly head is seen. 
The Trojans fly in wild dismay : 
O, then had Turnus thought 
To force the fastenings of the gates 
And call within his valiant mates, 
The nation and the war that day 
Alike to end had brought ! 
But rage and blind desire to slay 
Still drive him on the recreant prey. 
First Phalaris beneath him dies, 
And Gyges, hamstrung as he flies : 
Forth from the slain he plucks each spear, 
And hurls them on the fliers’ rear, 
While Juno nerves him for the strife, 
And breathes within diviner life 
Then lays he Halys on the field 
And Phegeus, cloven through his shield : 
Alcander, Halius, Prytanis, 
And young Noémon, all 
Are slaughtered, ere their foe they wis, 
And tumbled from the wall: 
And Lynceus, who in vain essayed 
The strife, and called his friends for aid: 
His right knee propped against the mound, 
He swings his weighty falchion round: 
Head-piece and head, by one sure wound 
Cut off, at distance fall. 
Then huntsman Amycus succeeds; 


BOOK IX. 30 


Co 


None better knew to flying reeds 
The envenomed point to lend : 

And Clytius feels the conqueror’s spear, 

And Cretheus, to the Muses dear, 
Cretheus, the Muses’ friend: 

The minstrel lay, the tuneful shell 

Had touched him with their magic spell, 
And still the warrior strung 

To martial themes his glowing lyre, 

And arms, and men, and steeds of fire 
In lofty numbers sung. 


At last, at news of Troy’s defeat, 
Mnestheus and brave Serestus meet: 
Their friends they see in wild retreat, 

Within their camp the foe: 
And, “ Whither fly ye?” Mnestheus cried: 

“What walls, what town are yours beside ? 
Shall one mere man, on all sides pent 
Within your mounded battlement, 

Such deaths have dealt, such warriors sent 
Unvenged to shades below ? 
Feel ye no shame, no manly grief 
For gods, for country, or for chief, 
O craven hearts and slow ?” 
Roused by the word, they stand at length, 
And front him with collected strength, 
While Turnus by degrees gives ground, 
And seeks the part the stream runs round. 
The Trojans follow, shouting loud, 
And closer still and closer crowd. 
So when the gathering swains assail 
A lion with their brazen hail, 
He, glaring rage, begins to quail 
And sullenly departs : 
For shame his back he will not turn. 


354 THE ADNEID. 


Yet dares not, howsoe’er he yearn, 
To charge their serried darts! 
So Turnus lingeringly retires, 
And glows with ‘neffectual fires. 
Twice on the foe e’en then he falls, 
Twice routs and drives them round the walls: 
But from che exap in swarms they pour, 
Nor Juno dares to help him more, 
For Iris hastens down 
With words from Jove of angry threat, 
Should Turnus make resistance yet, 
Nor quit the leaguered town.* 
No longer now by force of hand 
Or buckler may the youth withstand, 
So thick the javelins play : 
Round his broad brows the helmet rings : 
Crushed by the volley from the slings 
Its solid sides give way. 
His plumes are reft: his shield ’gins fail, 
While speer on spear the Trojans hail, 
With Mnestheus, soul of flame. 
Ser all his limbs dark sweat-drops break ; 
No time /» breathe: thick pantings shake 
His vast and laboring frame. 
At length, accoutered as he stood, 
Headlong he plunged into the flood. 
The yellow flood the charge received, 
With buoyant tide his weight upheaved. 
And cleaning off the encrusted gore, 
Returned him to his friends once more. 


* As Virgil repeatedly speaks of the Trojan camp as 
‘‘urbs,” have ventured here to call it a town. 


BOOK X, 335 


BOOK X. 


ARGUMENT.—Jupiter, calling a council of the Gods, 
forbids them to engage in either party. At Aineas’ 
return, there is a bloody battle, Turnus killing Pallas: 
Afneas, Lausus and Mezentius. Mezentius is de- 
scribed as an atheist ; Lausus, as a pious and virtuous 
youth. The different actions and death of these two 
are the subject of a noble episode, 


MerantimE Olympus’ gate unfolds: 
The Almighty Sire a council holds 
In heaven’s sidereal hall, 
Whence earth lies open to his view, 
The camp of Troy, the Latian crew: 
The Gods obey his call, 
And range them on their golden seats : 
Himself the high occasion treats: 
“Great powers of heaven, what change has 
wrought 
Such dire revulsion in your thought? 
Whence comes this madness of debate, 
These passions flaming into hate ? 
My nod forbade the Italian folk 
’Gainst Teucer’s sons to strike a stroke: 
What mean your strifes that break my law? 
What wild alarm could sway 
Or these or those the sword to draw 
And wake the sleeping fray ? 
The battle day at length shall come 
(Let none foredate the hour of doom) 
When Carthage town shall roll 
On Rome’s seven hills the stormy tide, 
And through the Alps cleave passage wide 


336 THE ANEID. 


To her predestined goal : 
Then may you give your hate its fill, 
And rage and ravage as you will: 
Now cease, and ratify with me 
The covenant I will shall be.” 


Thus briefly Jove: but not in brief 

Gives Venus utterance to her grief: 

“ Dread lord of all above, below! 

For other succor none we know 
In this our trouble sore: 

Seest thou how swells the Rutules’ pride? 

See Turnus in his triumph ride, 

E’en on the crest of war’s fierce tide, 
And bid its billows roar! 

No more their walls my Trojans shield : 

The camp is changed to battle-field : 
The trenches float with gore. 

Our chief in ignorance bides away : 

What? leav’st us not one peaceful day 
From siege and leaguer free ? 

Once more there lowers o’er rising Troy 

A spoiler, eager to destroy, 
With myriads fierce as he: 

And Tydeus’ son once more is brought, 

To fight, belike, as erst he fought. 

Ay, sooth, I ween it is decreed 

That Venas’ wounds again shall bleed, 

And I, thy child, too long delay 

The spear that gores, but cannot slay. 

If unsecured by leave from thee 

Troy’s sons have sailed to Italy, 

Withdraw thine aid, and let them be, 
To reap their folly’s due: 

But if thy mandates they obeyed 

By many a warning voice conveyed 


BOOK X. 337 


From heaven above and nether shade, 
Who dares to change thy firm decree 
Or write the fates anew? 
Why tell each bygone grievance o’er, 
The fleet consumed on Eryx’ shore, 
The monarch of the storm called forth, 
The winds unchained, East, West and North, 
Or Ivis sent from high ? 
Nay, e’en the ghosts beneath she tries 
(O’erlooked till now those choice allies): 
Through Latian towns Alecto flies, 
And taints the upper sky. 
Tis not for empire now I fear: 
That was a hope that once was dear, 
But let it pass: our blood is spilt, 
Yet give the victory where thou wilt. 
But O, if yet thy cruel spouse 
Will grant no land where Troy may house, 
By Llium’s ruins I implore, 
By that last agony she bore, 
Release Ascanius from the strife, 
And let my grandson ’scape with life! 
His sire may roam on unknown seas, 
And drift where Fate or Fortune please: 
But let me snatch the child away 
And save him from yon bloody fray. 
Paphos and Amathus are mine, 
And high Cythera’s bower : 
There let him live, his arms resign, 
Nor dream the dream of power. 
On Italy let Carthage frown, 
He shall not vex your Tyrian town. 
What profit to have ’scaped the fight 
And won his way in venturous flight 
Through foe and fire and sword, 
The rage of land and ocean spent, 


yD 
a“ 


338 THE AENEID. 


While Troy on Latium still is bent, 

And hopes her towers restored ? 
Best to have fixed them on the spot 
Where Ilium’s embers still are hot, 

Laid down their limbs by Xanthus’ flood, 
And dwelt where once their city stood. 
O Father! look on wretched men ; 

Give us our native streams again, 

And let our progeny repeat 

The old, old tale of Troy’s defeat!” 


Then, by her rage to utterance stirred, 
Imperial Juno took the word: 
“ And must I then my silence break 
And buried griefs to life awake ? 
What God above or man below 
Your good Atneas forced to go 
To war, and be Latinus’ foe ? 
Grant that to Italy he went, 
By fate or mad Cassandra sent: 
Who bade him quit his camp and trust 
His life to every stormy gust, 
Leave toa boy’s weak hands to guide 
The war, and o’er his walls preside, 
Seduce the Tyrrhenes, and molest 
The peace of nations long at rest ? 
What force, what tyranny of ours 
To such misventure led ? 
Where then were Juno’s baleful powers, 
Or Iris downward sped ? 
Tis shame Italians should engirth 
Your infant Troy with sword and fire, 
That Turnus on his parent earth 
Should come and go at his desire, 
Though nymph Venilia gave him birth 
And blest Pilumnus was his sire: 


rt 


BOOK X., 339 


And shall not Troy in turn feel shame 
To ravage Latium’s fields with flame, 
Play despot o’er an alien soil, 
And earry flocks and herds for spoil, 
Pick marriages at will, and bear 
From others’ arms the plighted fair, 
Make suit for peace with wool-wreathed bough, 
Yet arm her ships from stern to prow? 
AMneas from the conquering Greek 
You filch away with ease, 
And cheat them, when a man they seek, 
With cloud and airy breeze: 
You make his vessels change their guise, 
And each and all as Nereids rise: 
Yet call it crime, when Juno lends 
Her succor to her Rutule friends. 
Your chief in ignorance bides away ; 
And in his ignorance let him stay. 
Paphos and Amathus are yours, 
And high Cythera’s shade: 
Why seek a sky where battle lowers, 
And savage homes invade ? 
Are ours the hands that labor still 
The ebbing strength of Troy to spill? 
Our hands ? or theirs that broke the peace 
And gave her to the sword of Greece ? 
What fatal cause the quarrel sent 
*Twixt continent and continent ? 
When Paris stormed the Spartan’s bed, 
Was mine the guiding star that led? 
Armed I for war the adulterous hand, 
Or battle’s flame with passion fanned ? 
Then had your terror been in place, 
Your fears for your be loved race: 
Now, all too late, you idly plain, 
And fling your wrongful taunts in vain.” 


340 THE ADNEID. 


Thus pleaded Juno: and the rest 
Murmuring their diverse minds expressed, 
As newborn gales in forest pent 
Confusedly struggle for a vent, 

And rippling ’mid the leaves, inform 
The seamen of the coming storm. 
Then he begins, the Sire of all, 
Who rules the world at will: 
E’en as he speaks, the Gods’ great hall 
Grows tremulously still : 
The firm earth quivers to her base: 
High heaven is still through all its space: 
The winds are whispered into sleep, 
And waveless calm controls the deep. 
“Give ear, and with attention lay 
Deep in your hearts the words I say. 
Since Troy with Latium must contend, 
And these your wranglings find no end, 
Let each man use his chance to-day 
And carve his fortune as he may ; 
Rutule or Trojan let him be, 
Nations and names are nought to me: 
Or be they fates to Rutules kind 
That Ilium’s camp in leaguer bind. 
Or Trojan rashness, soon betrayed, 
And warning by a foe conveyed. 
Nor would I yet the Rutules spare : 
They too the common chance must share: 
Each warrior from his own good lance 
Shall reap the fruit of toil or chance: 
Jove deals to all an equal lot, 
And Fate shall loose or cut the knot.” 
This said, to witness his intent 
He called his Stygian brother’s lake, 
The banks where pitch and sand and mud 
Together mix their seething flood, 


BOOK X. 


Andas his kingly brows he bent 
Made all Olympus shake. 

So came the council to its close: 

Jove from his golden throne arose: 

The Gods around their sovereign wait 

And lead him to his palace gate. 


Meantime, intent to burn and slay, 
The foe once more the siege essay. 
Pent in their camp the Trojans lie, 
Despair of help, yet cannot fly. 
Arrayed in vain, they ring the wall, 
A hapless remnant, thin and small. 
Asius Imbrasides is there, 

And Hicetaon’s valiant heir ; 

The Assaraci, twin warriors they, 
Castor, and Thymbris old and gray, 
In battle’s forefront stand : 

Claros and Themon join the train, 
The brethren of Sarpedon slain, 
From Lycia’s mighty land. 
Lyrnesian Acmon heaves a block, 
Vast fragment of its parent rock, 
Born of a race no toil that shun, 
Mnestheus’ brother, Clytius’ son. 
These fight with stones, with javelins those, 
Rain fiery torches on their foes, 
Or bend with force unerring bows. 
There in the midst is Venus’ care, 
The princely boy, his head all bare ; 
So, set in gold, beams forth a gem, 
For collar or for anadem ; 
So polished ivory shines 
Inlaid in terebinth or box; 
Down his fair neck bright streams his locks, 
Which pliant gold entwines. 


341 


849 THE ANEID. 


Thou, Ismarus, too wast seen to deal 

With archer craft the envenomed steel 
And quell the assailant powers ; 

They home Mzonia’s fruitful mold, 

Made rich by labor and the gold 
That bright Pactolus showers. 

There too is Mnestheus, raised heaven-high 

sy Turnus made yestreen to fly, 

And Capys, marked for future fame, 

irom whom fair Capua takes her name. 


They all day long in fight had striven 

With ceaseless toil and pain: 

And now beneath a midnight heaven 
Afneas plows the main. 

For when, from good Evander sent, 

Ife reached the Etruscan leader’s tent, 

Tells what his name and whence he springs, 

What aid he asks, what powers he brings, 

What arms are on Mezentius’ side, 

And Turnus’ overweening pride, 

And bids him think, with sighs and prayers, 

What changes wait on man’s affairs, 

Not long the conference: Tarchon plights 

His friendly troth, his force unites, 
With action swift and brief: 

The Lydian race from fate set free, 

By Heaven’s command put straight to sea 
Placed ’neath a foreign chief. 

First sails Aineas’ royal ship : 

The Phrygian lions arm her tip, 

And Ida spreads its shade above, 

The hill that Teucrian exiles love. 

There sits Afneas on the stern, 

The tides that make the war to turn 
Deep pondering o’er and o’er, 


BOOK X. 343 


And Pallas, ever at his side, 
Asks of the stars, the night-fare’s guide, 
Or questions of his wanderings wide 

On ocean and on shore. 


Now, Muses, ope your Helicon, 
The gates of song expand ; 
Say what the host to war comes on 
From forth the Etruscan strand, 
And, following in Aneas’ train, 
Spreads sail, and navigates the main. 


See Massicus the foremost guide 
His Tiger o’er the deep ; 
A thousand warriors at his side 
In Clusium’s lofty towers that bide 
And Cose’s warlike keep: 
Light quivers from their shoulders hang, 
Their deadly bows in combat twang. 
Grim Abas next; his followers bold 
In gleaming steel arrayed ; 
High on his stern, a blaze of gold, 
Apollo shone displayed. 
Six hundred Populonia gave 
To share his fortunes, tried and brave, 
And Ilva sends three hundred more, 
Rich island-home of Chalyb ore. 
Then far-renowned Asilas third, 
Who tells Heaven’s will to men: 
The starry sky, the victim herd, 
The levin-bolt, the voiceful bird, 
All own his piercing ken: 
To war he brings a mighty throng, 
True spearmen all, a thousand strong. 
The people these of Pisa’s town, 
Whose sires from Elis erst came down, 


244 THE A2NEID. 


Then Astyr, proud of youthful charms, 

With fiery steed and glancing arms: 

Three hundred men beside him fare, 
Nerved by one loyal will, 

Who Cere’s home or Pyrgi share, 

Who breathe Gravisce’s tainted air, 
Or Minio’s cornland till. 


Nor shall Liguria’s chief remain, 
Brave Cinyras, here unsung, 
Nor thou, despite thy scanty train, 
Cupavo, fair and young: 
From whose tall helm swan-plumes arise, 
Memorial of thy sire’s disguise. 
For Cycnus, all for love, ’tis said, 
Of Phaethon untimely dead, 
Embowered amid the poplar wood 
Of that unhappy sisterhood, 
Kept plaining o’er the cruel wrong, 
And solacing his grief with song, 
Till o’er his limbs began to grow 
A downy plumage, white as snow ; 
Then to the skies he passed, and sent 
His voice before him as he went. 
And now his son in arms appears, 
Leads forth a host of equal years, 
And spreads his flying sails: 
High on the prow a Centaur stands, 
A huge rock heaved in both his hands 3 
The keel behind him trails. 


There too great Ocnus o’er the sea 
Conducts his country’s chivalry, 
Child of prophetic Manto he 
And Tusean Tiber’s flood : 
Fair Mantua’s town he built and walled 


BOOK X. 345 


And by his mother’s surname called: 
Fair town! her sons of high degree, 

Though not unmixed their blood. 
Three races swell the mingled stream: 

Four states from each derive their birth: 
Herself among them sits supreme, 

Her Tuscan blood her chiefest worth. 
Five hundred thence Mezentius draws, 
Sworn foes to his unrighteous cause, 

A helmed and shielded train: 

And Mincius, whom Benacus breeds, 

In gray apparailment of reeds 

Their vengeful barks to battle leads, 
And launches on the main. 


There huge Aulestes plows the deep 

With all his hundred oars: 

Thrown upward by the enormous sweep, 
The billow foams and roars. 

A Triton on the vessel stood 

And blew defiance to the flood : 

His face a man’s and half his side, 
A fish’s all the rest: 

With giant force he stems the tide, 
And rears his savnge breast. 


So many chiefs, a nation’s flower, 
Across the sea conveyed 
In thirty ships their friendly power, 
And brought the Trojans aid. 


The day had vanished from on high, 
And Pheebe o’er the middle sky 
Impelled her chariot pale : 
Aineas, robbed by care of rest, 
The vessel’s course as helmsman dressed, 


346 THE A®NEID. 


And trimmed the shifting sail. 
When lo! a friendly company 
Confronts him midway on the sea: 
The nymphs to whom Cybebe gave 
As goddesses to rule the wave, 

They rode as ships before 
In seemly order swam the fiood, 
As many as erewhile had stood 

With prows attached to shore. 
From far they recognize their king 
And round him weave a choral ring. 
Cymodoce, of all the train 
Chief mistress of the vocal strain, 
Her right hand on the vessel lays, 
Oars with her left the watery ways, 
And borne breast-high above the seas, 
Stirs his awed soul with words like these: 
“ Still wakes Afneas, heaven’s true seed ? 
Still wake, and mend your navy’s speed. 
Lo here the pines from Ida’s seat, 
Now ocean-nymphs, your sometime fleet! 
What time the faithless Rutule lord 
Bore headlong down with fire and sword, 
Unwillingly we broke your chain 
And went to seek you o’er the main. 
The mighty Mother of her grace 
In pity changed us, form and face, 
And called us to a life divine 
With other nymphs beneath the brine, 
Your royal heir the while is pent 
In palisade and battlement ; 
A hedge of spears is round him set, 
And Latian foes the camp benet. 
The Arcade horse with Tyrrhenes joined 
Have mustered at the place assigned, 
And Turnus bids his warlike train 


BOOK X. 347 


Waylay them, ere the camp they gain. 
Up then, and soon as more shall rise 
Array for fight your bold allies, 

And take yonr shield, of Vulcan’s mold, 
Invincible and rimmed with gold. 

The morn shall see (tis truth I speak) 
Yon plains with Rutule carnage reek.” 


She ceased, and parting, to the bark 
A measured impulse gave; 
Like wind-swift arrow to its mark 
It darts along the wave. 
The rest*pursue. In wondering awe 
The chief revolves the things he saw, 
Yet cheers him, and with lifted eyes 
Thus makes petition to the skies: 
“ Blest Mother of the heavenly train, 
Whom Dindymus delights, 
Who lov’st the lions at thy rein, 
The city’s tower-crowned heights, 
Do thou the first my arms bestead ; 
Confirm the sign revealed ; 
Draw near us with auspicious tread, 
Thy Phrygians’ help and shield.” 
He spoke: and now the waxing day 
Was climbing up the ethereal way, 
Close on the skirts of night ; 
He bids the allies obey the call, 
Awake their courage, one and all, 
And gird them for the fight. 
And now there dawn upon his ken 
His leaguered camp, his gallant men, 
As on the stern he stands ; 
At once he rears his shield on high: 
With shouts the Trojans rend the sky: 
Fast and more fast their darts they ply ; 


348 THE ASNEID. 


Hope nerves their drooping hands. 

Such token give Strymonian cranes 
Beneath a gloomy cloud, 

What time they fly the autumnal rains 
With clamor hoarse and loud. 

With wonder strange the sudden change 
The Rutule leaders note, 

Till, backward as their eyes they bend, 

They see the vessels shoreward tend, 
And ocean all afloat. 

There glows like furnace fiery red 

The helmet on that noble head ; 

From the bossed shield, with gold ablaze, 

A stream of living lightning plays ; 

So comets shoot athwart the night 
A sullen sanguine glare ; 

So Sirius’ star that brings to man 

Fierce calenture and sickness wan, 

Lifts high in heaven his baleful light 
And saddens all the air. 


Yet Turnus still flames high with zeal 
To front the invader with the steel 
And drive him from the strand ; 
Still prompt to cheer or to upbraid, 
He clamors to his friends for aid: 
«Lo, here the chance for which you prayed, 
To crush them sword in hand! 
A brave man’s hand is Mars’s seat ; 
The coward finds him in his feet. 
Think, each and all, of home and wife, 
Think of their deeds who gave you life, 
Your gallant sires of old. 
Haste to the water’s brink ; dispute 
The land they challenge, foot to foot, 
While still in helpless disarray 


BOOK X. 349 


They slide and falter in the spray: 
Fair fortune aids the bold.” 

This said, he broods what wisest way 
To portion out his powers, 

Who best may follow him to fray. 
Who watch the leaguered towers. 


Meantime by bridges linked to land 
Aineas disembarks his band : 
Some watch the ebbing of the deep, 
And safely ’mid the shallows leap : 
Some down the oars descending slide, 
And win the ascent in spite of tide. 
Stout Tarchon rolls his ranging eyes, 
Till on the shore a place he spies, 
Where no chafed billows seethe and boil, 
No broken waves in wrath recoil, 
But ocean without let or breach 
Runs gently up the shelving beach ; 
Thither at once his fleet he steers, 
And then salutes his comrades’ ears : 

“ Now, gallants, now each sinew strain, 
Your bounding barks upheave ; 
Pierce with your beaks the hostile plain; 

Let the long keel with might and main 
Its own broad furrow cleave ; 
Give me but once the land to seize, 
The ship may break, if Fortune please.” 
Nerved by the word, each plies his oar 
And onward drives ’mid surge and foam, 
Till every beak attains the shore 
And every keel finds scatheless home. 
Less happy their adventurous chief ; 
His vessel, fastening on a reef, 
Long hangs in doubtful poise, and braves 
The onset of the baffled waves ; 


350 THE “AENEID. 


Till the strained sides at last give way 
And land the seamen ’mid the spray. 
There as they struggle, floating wreck 

And shattered oars their progress check, 
And billows, ebbing in retreat, 

Draw back, and wash them from their feet. 


Nor eager Turnus long delays : 
He musters all his band 
To front the Trojans, and arrays 
For conflict on the strand. 
The clarions sound: Adneas first 
On Latium’s ranks in havoc burst, 
And laid the rustics low: 
First falls, an augury of the fight, 
Huge Theron, who with giant might 
Assailed the godlike foe: 
Through mail and gold-wrought tunic driven 
The fatal sword his side has riven. 
Then hapless Lichas meets his doom, 
Who, ripped from his dead mother’s womb, 
To Phoebus vowed the cherished life 
That ’scaped the peril of the knife. 
Strong Cisseus and tall Gyas feel, 
As death with ponderous clubs they deal, 
The girding of the conqueror steel. 
Nought vantaged them in that dread hour 
Herculean arms nor hands of power, 
Nor he, the sire who gave them birth, 
Melampus, soul of purest worth, 
Long as Alcides toiled on earth, 
Still constant at his side. 
See, open-mouthed as Pharus cries, 
Full in his face the weapon flies, 
And stops his vaunting pride. 
Thou, Cydon, too, whose eager quest 


BOOK X. 351 


Young Clytius’ heart would move, 
’Neath that dread arm the field hadst pressed, 
Forgetful of thy love, 
But thy brave brethren, Phorcus’ seed, 
Were near thee in thy direst need ; 
Seven mighty men, they front the foe ; 
Seven javelins all at once they throw. 
Some from his helm and shield rebound, 
And, falling harmless, strew the ground 3 
While others, hurled with truer aim, 
Kind Venus wards from off his frame. 
Then to Achates cries the king: 
“ Quick, give me store of darts to fling: 
No spear shall thirst in vain 
To dye its point in Rutule blood 
Which erst in flesh of Grecian stood 
On Ilium’s fated plain.” 
He grasped his mighty lance and threw ; 
Through Mzon’s shield the weapon flew, 
And breast and breastplate rends. 
Alcanor brings his brother aid ; 
The falling chief his hand has stayed: 
In vain: the fell spear holds its course, 
Cleaves the stretched arm with fatal force, 
And dangling from the shoulder-blade 
The severed hand depends. 
Then gallant Numitor outdrew 
The javelin that his brother slew 
And at Aineas sent: 
The erring weapon cleft the sky, 
Just grazed Achates’ brawny thigh, 
Nor gained the mark it meant. 


Now Clausus, who from Cures came, 
In pride of youth and stalwart frame, 
Takes up the work of death ; 


352 THE ANEID. 


*Neath Dryops’ chin he drives his spear ; 
Through neck and throat the point cuts sheer 
And quenches voice and breath. 
The dead brow tumbles on the shore, 
The ghastly jaws disgorging gore. 
Three too from Boreas’ seed of Thrace 
And three from Ida’s ancient race 
Beneath his weapon bleed : 
The Aurunean tribes to aid him run, 
Halesus first, and Neptune’s son, 
The tamer of the steed. 
Then burns the fray: now these, now those 
Essay to dispossess their foes: 
E’en on Ausonia’s brink they close 
In fierce and deathful fight. 
So in the amplitude of sky 
Discordant winds the combat try 
With equal rage and might: 
Nor blasts, nor clouds, nor waves give way: 
Long balanced hangs the doubtful day : 
In deadly grips they stand: 
Thus Trojan and Italian meet, 
With face to face, and feet to feet, 
And hand close pressed to hand. 


In other regions of the field 
Where stones and torn-up trees are spread 
Athwart a torrent’s channeled bed, 
Young Pallas sees the Arcadians yield : 
Forced by the ground to put aside 
The gallant steeds they wont to ride, 
And all unused on foot to fight, 
They break and turn their backs in flight. 
Upbraiding, soothing, all he can, 
He prays them, taunts them, man by man: 
«Friends, whither would you fly? for shame! 


BOOK X. 353 


O, by your former deeds of fame, 
Your chief Eyander’s glorious name, 
Your fights beneath him won, 
And my young hopes, that now aspire 
To match the honors of my sire, 
I charge you, stand, not run! 
The sword, the sword must hew a pass 
To take you through that living mass: 
There, where the battle fiercest flames, 
Our own, our noble country claims 
Her Pallas and his band. 
No angry heaven above you lowers: 
Mortal, we cope with mortal powers: 
A single life has each, like ours, 
And each but one right hand. 
Lo, here the ocean hems us in: 
Earth leaves no room to flee : 
Come, choose the goal ye mean to win; 
The city or the sea?” 
He said, and rushes all aglow 
Full on the midmost of the foe. 
First Lagus, led by evil chance, 
Confronts the inevitable lance ; 
Him, as in vain a ponderous stone 
With toiling hands he heaves, 
The victor strikes where deftly join 
The sutures of the ribs and spine, 
And sudden from the jointed bone 
The unwilling spear retrieves. 
On rushes Hisbo, madly fain 
To catch him, hampered with the slain: 
But Pallas, still more fleet, 
Prevents him, as with reckless zeal 
He breathes revenge, and plants the steel 
E’en where the heartstrings beat. 
Then slew he Sthenelus, and base 
23 


354 THE AENEID. 


Anchemolus, of Rhceteus’ race, 
Who dared in wantonness of crime 
His step-dame’s wedded couch to climb. 
Ye too were tumbled on the plain, 
Larides, Thymber, brethren twain, 
Of Daucus’ honorable strain ; 
So like, the sweet confusion e’en 
Their parents’ eyes betrayed ; 
But Pallas twin and twin between 
Has cruel difference made : 
For Thymber’s head the steel has shorn; 
Larides’ severed hand forlorn 
Feels blindly for its lord : 
The quivering fingers, half alive, 
Twitch with convulsive gripe, and strive 
To close upon the sword. 


Now with his warning in their ear, 
His deeds before their eye, 
Anger and shame o’erpowering fear, 
His mates to combat fly. 
Lo, hurrying past in full career, 
Falls Rhceteus by the Evandrian spear. 
That spear was meant for Ilus’ death, 
But Ilus gains a moment’s breath 
Doomed in the next to die: 
While Rhceteus comes between and bleeds, 
From warlike Teuthras as he speeds 
And Tyres’ brandished steel ; 
Rolled headlong from the rapid car 
He tumbles, and the field of war 
Spurns with his dying heel. 
E’en as a swain ’mid forest trees, 
When summer yields the wished-for breeze, 
His scattered torches sends; 
At once, devouring all between, 


BOOK X. 355 


From cast to west along the green 
The fiery host extends ; 
He, placed on high, beholds the while 
The conquering blaze with joyous smile: 
So, gallant youth, from far and wide 
Arcadia gathers to thy side, 
And all her succor lends, 
But, trained in battle’s fierce alarms, 
Halzsus round him draws his arms 
And springs to meet the foe. 
Then fell Demodocus, and then 
Lodon and Pheres, valiant men : 
That onset brought them low: 
A hostile hand Strymonius rears ; 
Strymonius’ hand his falchion shears: 
At Thoas’ front he flings a stone, 
And seatters blood, and brain, and bone. 
Halzesus’ sire the future feared, 
And ’mid the woods his darling reared : 
When death had glazed the old man’s eyes, 
The ruthless Parc claimed their prize, 
Laid their cold finger on his heart, 
And marked him for Evander’s dart. 
Now, poising long his lance in air, 
To Tiber Pallas made his prayer: 
“Grant, Tiber sire, the spear I throw 
Through strong Halesus’ breast may go: 
The spoils and armor of the foe 
Shall deck thy sacred oak.” 
Tis heard ; and while Haleesus shields 
Imaon’s breast, his own he yields 
Unguarded to the stroke. 


But Lausus, breath of battle’s life, 
Lets not his followers yield the strife, 
By that fell carnage frayed: 


356 THE AENEID. 


First slays he Abas, warrior good, 
Who erst, like knot in sturdy wood,* 
The edge of combat stayed. 
Now Tuscans, now Arcadians bleed, 

And Troy’s indomitable breed. 
The two hosts join in battle-shock, 
Their generals equal as their might: 
From every side to front they flock, 
Till pinioned in a deadly lock 
Nor arm nor dart can smite. 
Here Pallas bids the battle rage, 
There Lausus leads; alike their age ; 
Both fair in form, but both denied 
Return to their dear land. 
Yet not for victory or defeat 
May each with each in conflict}meet ; 
Each must his destiny abide 
Beneath a mightier hand. 


Now Turnus’ sister warns her chief 

That gallant Lausus needs relief; 

At once, impetuous on his car, 

He cleaves a pathway through the war, 
And “ Lay,” he cries, “ your weapons by: 
I cope with Pallas, none but 1; 

Stand off, nor rob me of my due; 

Would Heaven his sire were here to view!” 
He spoke; his mates obedient hear, 

And parting, leave the champaign clear. 
Thence as the yielding crowd retires, 
The brave youth pauses and admires, 

* Virgil’s allusion in the word ‘‘ nodum” is probably 
rather to a knot which needs untying than to a knot in 
wood; but zit was necessary to give some metaphor 
which might be equivalent to his, and the resistance 
made by a knot in wood to the blade of an axe naturally 
suggested itself, 


BOOK X. 


Much marvels at his haughty phrase, 
And scans his form with eager gaze ; 
Then, rolling round undaunted eyes, 
With speech as resolute replies: 
“Or goodly spoils shall make me great, 
Or honorable death ; 
My sire is nerved for either fate : 
Loud vaunts are empty breath.” 
He spoke, and marched into the field ; 
Chill fear the Arcadian hearts congealed. 
Down plunges Turnus from his car, 
Prepared on foot to fight: 
As when a lion from afar 
Beholds a bull intending war, 
Headiong he comes with furious bound ; 
So, bounding onward o’er the ground, 
Looks Turnus to the sight. 


When Pallas saw his foe advance 

Within the cover of his lance, 

He steps in front, in hope that chance 
His ill-matched powers may aid, 

And thus with upraised countenance 
To highest heaven he prayed: 

“ Now by the board whose homely fare, 

A stranger, thou wast fain to share, 

Assist me, Hercules, I pray, 

In this my all too bold essay : 

Let Turnus’ eyes in dying brook 

Upon a conqueror’s face to look, 

The while I spoil him as he lies 

Of his stained arms, my gory prize.” 

His votary’s prayer Alcides hears; 

His cheeks are bathed in fruitless tears, 

And deep, within his laboring breast 
He heaves a stifled groan ; 


3 


a) 


7 


358 THE ANEID. 


Whom thus the Almighty Sire addressed 
In grave and soothing tone: 

“ Each has his destined time: a span 

Is all the heritage of man: 

Tis virtue’s part by deeds of praise 

To lengthen fame through after days. 

Full many a godhead’s son, beside 

The walls of Troy, in combat died ; 

Nay, he, my own anthentic seed, 

Sarpedon, he was doomed to bleed. 

Death waits for Turnus too: e’en now 

Ife nears the bound his fates allow.” 

So speaking, he averts his mien, 

And turns him from the deathful scene. 


Now Pallas hurls with all his might 
His spear, and bares his falchion bright. 
Where, rising high, the brazen coat 
The shoulder guards, the javelin smote, 
Pierced the broad shield with well-meant aim, 
And grazed e’en Turnus’ mighty frame. 
Then, poising long the shaft, at last 
His steel-tipped javelin Turnus cast, 
And “Let it now,” he cries, “be seen 
If this my dart be not more keen.” 

So he: through all the metal plates, 
The hides of bullocks dressed 
That wrapped the sheet in folds on folds, 
The fatal point its passage holds, 
The corslet’s barrier penetrates 
And cleaves his manly breast. 
From the wide wound he plucks in vain 
The reeking weapon out ; 
The life-blood and the life amain 
In mingled torrent spout. 
He sinks collapsing on the wound; 


BOOK X. 


About his limbs the arms resound ; 
And as he writhes in deadly pain 
His fierce teeth bite the hostile plain. 


Spanning the dead with haughty stride, 
« Arcadians, hear me,” Turnus cried . 
“ Say to your monarch I remit 
His Pallas, handled as was fit. 
The solace of a tomb, the meed 
Of burial, freely I concede. 
E’en so, methinks, the sumptuous cheer 
He gave to Troy will cost him dear.” 
Then with his foot the corpse he pressed, 
And stripped the belt from off the breast, 


The ponderous belt, whose sculptured gold 


A tale of crime and bloodshed told, 
Those fifty bridegrooms, slain in bed 
E’en on the very night they wed : 
Once Clonus’ work: now proudly worn 
By Turnus in his hour of scorn. 
O impotence of man’s frail mind 
To fate and to the future blind, 
Presumptuous and o’erweening still 
When Fortune follows at its will! 
Full soon shall Turnus wish in vain 
That life untouched, those spoils unta’en, 
And think it cheap to spend his all, 
Could gold that bloody deed recall! 
But Pallas lifeless on his shield 
His weeping comrades bear from field. 
O sad, proud thought, that thus a son 
Should reach a father’s door! 
This day beheld your wars begun: 
This day beholds them o’er, 
While yet you leave on yonder plain 
Vast heaps of Rutule warriors slain! 


359 


360 - THE AINEID. 


No random fame of ill so great, 
But surer messenger of fate 
To brave Aneas hies ; 
Tells him the day is well-nigh lost ; 
Tis time to aid the routed host, 
E’en while the moment flies. 
With brandished sword he storms along, 
And hews a passage through the throng, 
Still seeking Turnus, newly red 
With slaughter of the mighty dead. 
Pallas, Evander, all, they stand 
Like life before his sight, 
The board that welcomed him, the hand 
In warm affiance plight. 
Four hapless youths of Sulmo’s breed 
And four who Ufens call their sire 
He takes alive, condemned to bleed 
To Pallas’ shade on Pallas’ pyre. 
At Magus then his spear he threw ; 
But Magus from the death withdrew, 
Came crouching up, while o’er his head 
The quivering lance through ether sped, 
And clasped the victor’s knees and said : 
« By your great father’s shade I pray, 
By young Iulus’ dawning day, 
In pity deign my life to spare 
For my gray sire, my youthful heir. 
A lofty house is mine: a hoard 
Of silver in its vaults are stored, 
And piles of wrought and unwrought gold 
Are treasured there, of weight untold, 
Not here the crisis of the strife, 
Nor victory hangs on one poor life.” 
He ceased: immovable and stern 
Aneas thus made brief return : 
“ Nay, spare your gold and silver heap: 


BOOK X. 361 


Those treasured hoards your heirs should keep. 
Since Turnus shed out Pallas’ gore, 
The bartery of war is o’er: 
So deems my gallant son, and so 
My father’s spirit down below: ” 
Then seized him by the helm, and smote 
With deep-plunged blade his back-drawn throat. 
Not far Heemonides the good, 
Apollo’s priest and Dian’s, stood, 
His brow with sacred fillet wreathed, 
His limbs in dazzling armor sheathed : 
He meets him, chases, lays him low, 
Stands o’er the immolated foe, 
And shadows him like night: 
Serestus on his shoulders proud 
Bears the bright arms, a trophy vowed 
To thee, stern lord of fight. 


Now Ceculus, of Vulcan’s seed, 

And Umbro, nursed in Marsian airs, 
Bid the spent war afresh to bleed: 

The Dardan chief against them fares. 
Stout Anxur’s hand and all his shield 
His sword has tumbled on the field ; 
Poor wretch ! he deemed that boastful word 
Could turn the edge of spear or sword, 
And, proudly swelling to the spheres, 
Dreamed of hoar locks and length of years. 
E’en as the hero wreaked his wrath 
Came Tarquitus athwart his path, 
Whom Dryope to Faunus bore: 
Refulgent armor cased him o’er. 
The Dardan spear, with force addressed, 
Drives shield and corslet on his breast ; 
Then while in vain he pours his prayers 
And many a plea for life prepares, 


362 THE ASNEID. 


His shapely neck the falchion shares : 
Down falls the body, reft of head, 

And thus Aneas taunts the dead : 

“ Lie there, proud youth! no mother dear 
Shall lay you on your father’s bier : 
Your corpse shall rot above the soil, 
The eagle’s and the raven’s spoil, 

Or drift unheeded down the flood, 
While hungry fish shall lick your blood.” 
Antzus next and Lucas die, 

The flower of Turnus’ chivalry, 

With Numa, cast in valor’s mold, 

And Camers with his locks of gold, 
Of noble Volscens’ ancient strain, 
Who, lord of many a wide domain, 
O’er mute Amycle stretched his reign. 
As when of old Aigean strove 

Against the majesty of Jove, 

With fifty heads, so legends say, 

A hundred hands, he waged the fray ; 
Each head disgorged a stream of fire 
To match the lightnings of the Sire; 
Each hand flashed forth a sword, or pealed 
tesponsive thunder on the shield: 

So, when A£neas’ blade was warmed, 
O’er all the plain at once he stormed. 
Now on Nipheeus’ four-horse car 

And towering crest he turns the war: 
Soon as the advancing coursers spied 
That dreadful port, that lofty stride, 
Appalled they start, their lord unseat, 
And backward to the shore retreat. 


See Lucagus and Liger ride 
In one fair chariot, side by side, 
One brother skilled the reins to guide, 


BOOK X. 


While one the falchion plies. 
Aineas stays their bold career, 
Confronts them with uplifted spear ; 

When thus proud Liger cries: 

“ Not these the steeds of Diomed, 

Nor this Achilles’ car, 

Nor Phrygia’s plains before you spread : 
This land shall see the invader dead, 

And terminate the war.” 

Thus Liger madly vaunts: the foe 
Speaks not, but answers with a blow. 
As Lucagus low bends him o’er 

The chariot’s rim his steeds to smite, 
And with left foot advanced before, 

Prepares him for the doubtful fight, 
Just where the shield’s last sutures join 


Comes the fell spear, and strikes the groin. 


He, from his chariot overthrown, 

Down toppling, on the field lies prone: 

And thus in sharp contemptuous strain 

Aineas glories o’er the slain: 

“So, friend, no shadows seen from far 

Have turned to flight your luckless car; 

No frightened horses caused its shame: 

Its nimble lord is all to blame.” 

Then on the steeds his hands he laid, 
When sliding from the seat 

The wretched brother knelt and prayed, 
A supplant at his feet: 

“QO, by your own illustrious worth, 

By those who gave such greatness birth, 

Brave chief of Troy, your suitor spare ”— 

The warrior stopped his further prayer: 

“ Not this the strain you breathed so late: 

Die; brother should be brother’s mate.” 

His sword unlocks the springs of breath, 


363 


B64 THE ASNEID. 


And opes a way to let in death. 
So plies the chief his work of blood 
Through the wide field, like torrent flood 
Or black tempestuous wind: 
Ascanius and his leaguered train 
Take heart, and issue on the plain, 
And leave their camp behind. 


Then Jove addressed the spouse of Jove: 

“ Sweet sister mine and wedded love, 
Who now will do your judgment wrong ? 
*Tis Venus makes these Trojans strong ; 
Not those vain powers they deem are theirs, 
The hand that strikes, the soul that dares.” 
« Ah why,” she answered, “ gracious Sire, 
Torment a heart that fears your ire? 
Had I the power I owned erewhile, 
The power that suits my queenly style, 

I then had moved your will 
That Turnus, rescued from the strife, 
Should yet enjoy his precious life, 

And bless old Daunus still. 
Now let him die, though just and good, 
And glut his foes with guiltless blood. 
Yet from our race he draws his name ; 
From old Pilumnus’ loins he came ; 
And altars, crowned with offerings fair, 
Attest his worth and claim your care.” 
To whom in brief thus made reply 
The ruler of the ethereal sky : 
“Tf all for Turnus you would crave 
Be respite from an open grave, 

And so my mind you read, 
Let the doomed youth have space to fly 
And ’scape awhile his destiny : 

So much may Jove concede ; 


BOOK X, 


But know, if "neath your prayer you hide 
Some deeper, larger boon beside, 
And think to change the war’s set tide, 
»*Tis empty hope you feed.” 
The queen returns with streaming eyes: 
“ What if your heart should give 
That further boon your lip denies, 
And suffer him to live ? 
Now on the blameless victim wait 
The powers of doom, or blind to fate 
I wander all astray. 
Yet O! may Juno’s fears be vain, 
And He that can, in mercy deign 
To choose the better way ! ” 


Then from the sky with eager haste 
She stoops, a storm-cloud round her waist, 
And driving tempest as she flies, 
Down to the embattled hosts she hies. 
A phantom in Aneas’ mold 
She fashions, wondrous to behold, 

Of hollow shadowy cloud, 
Bids it the Dardan arms assume, 
The shield, the helmet, and the plume, 
Gives soulless words of swelling tone, 
And motions like the hero’s own, 
As stately and as proud ; 
Like gliding specters of the dead, 
Or dreams that haunt the slumberer’s bed. 
Now, stalking in the battle’s van, 
The phantom menaces the man, 
And pours defiant cries : 
Turnus comes on in swift career, 
And hurls from far his hurtling spear, 
When lo! it turns and flies. 
Then Turnus deems his foe retires 


365 


366 THE AENEID. 


In craven flight, and instant fires 
With hope’s delusive glow: 

«“ Atneas! why so fast?” he cried ; 

“ Desert not thus your plighted bride 3; 

The land you sought for o’er the tide 
This hand shall soon bestow.” 

So clamoring, he pursues the quest 
With brandished falchion bare, 

Nor sees the transports of his breast 
Are lavished on the air. 

A ship stood fastened to the bank, 

With steps let down and sloping plank, 

The same which king Osinius bore 

Across the sea from Clusium’s shore. 

Thither the feigned Aneas flies, 

And cowering as in covert lies ; 

Turnus pursues, the bridge bestrides, 

And scales the vessel’s lofty sides. 

Scarce on the prow his foot had stept, 
Saturnia breaks the band ; 

The galley down the waves is swept 
That ebb from off the strand : 

While through the plain with baffled wrath 
/Eneas seeks his foe, 

And hurries all that cross his path 
To Dis and Death below. 

And now no more the phantom hides, 
But melts in air on high, 

While Turnus o’er the ocean rides 
Fast as his bark can fly. 


Amazed, unthankful for escape, 
He gazes on the fleeting shape, 
And thus in wild remonstrance cries 
With hands uplifted to the skies: 
“ And couldst thou deem, Almighty Sire, 


BOOK X. 


Thy worshiper’s offense so dire 
To merit doom so sore ? 
Whence came I? whither am I borne? 
And must I journey home in scorn, 
Nor e’er behold, ah wretch forlorn, 
The camp, the city more ? 
And where are they, that gallant band, 
Who fieldward followed my command ? 
In Death’s fell grasp I left them all: 
I see them fly —I see them fall— 
I hear their dying groans. 
What gulf will hide me from the day ? 
Have pity, O ye winds, I pray, 
And dash me on the stones! 
Tis Turnus, yes, ’tis I that kneel! 
Strand on the shoals this cursed keel, 
And whelm me where nor Rutule rout 
Nor prying fame may find me out.” 
F’en thus he raves, and all distraught 
Whirls in an agony of thought, 
Or should he bury in his side 
The hard cold steel, sure salve of pride, 
Or plunge in ocean, swim to shore, 
And tempt the Teucrian arms once more. 
Thrice had he rushed on either fate : 
Thrice Jove’s great spouse withstood, 
Looked down with eyes compassionate, 
And checked his maddening mood. 
The swift wind wafts him o’er the foam, 
Aud bears him to his father’s home. 


Now, sped by promptings from the skies, 
Mezentius takes the field, and flies 
On Troy’s triumphant van. 
With gathered hate and furious blows 
The Tyrrhene legions round him close, 


367 


368 THE A2NEID. 


A nation ’gainst a man. 
He stands like rock that breasts the deep, 
Exposed to winds’ and waters’ sweep, 
That bears all threats of sea and sky 
In undisturbed tranquillity. 
First Dolichaon’s son he slew, 
Then Latagus and Palmus too; 
That, as he stands, with ponderous stone 
He crushes, scattering brain and bone ; 
This, as he flies, with dexterous wound 
He tumbles hamstrung on the ground, 
There leaves him: Lausus wears his crest 
And glittering arms on brow and breast. 
Euanthes sinks beneath his spear, 
And Mimas, Paris’ loved compeer, 
Whom fair Theano bore 
To Amycus, the selfsame night 
When Troy’s fell firebrand sprang to light ; 
Now Paris “neath his country’s walls 
Sleeps his last sleep, while Mimas falls 
On Latium’s unknown shore. 
Like wild boar, driven from mountain height 
By cries that scare and fangs that bite, 
In Vesulus’ pine-cinctured glen 
Long fostered, or Laurentum’s fen, 
*Mid reeds and marish ground, 
Now, trapped among the hunters’ nets, 
His bristles rears, his tushes whets : 
None dares for very fear draw nigh ; 
With arrowy war and furious cry 
They stand at distance round : 
E’en thus, of all Mezentius’ foes, 
None ventures hand to hand to close; 
With deafening shouts and bended bows 
Their tyrant they assail ; 
He, churning foam, from side to side 


BOOK X. 069 


Glares round, and from his tough bull-hide 
Shakes off the brazen hail. 
From ancient Corythus’ domain 
Had Acron come, of Grecian strain, 
Leaving his spouse unwed: 
Him dealing death Mezentius spied 
Clad in the robe his lady dyed 
And crowned with plumage red : 
As lion ranging o’er the wold, 
Made mad by hunger uncontrolled, 
If flying roe his eyes behold 
Or lofty-antlered deer, 
Grins ghastly, rears his mane, and hangs 
O’er the rent flesh ; his greedy fangs 
Dark streams of gore besmear : 
So springs Mezentius on the foe : 
Soon lies unhappy Acron low, 
Spurns the soaked ground with dying heel, 
And stains with blood the shivered steel. 
Now, as Orodes strides before, 
He deigns not to shed out his gore 
By javelin’s covert blow ; 
He heads, and meets him front to front, 
Not by base stealth but strength’s sheer brunt 
Prevailing o’er his foe. 
Then, planting on the fallen his tread 
To free his spear, the conqueror said : 
“ See, gallants, great Orodes slain ! 
Our foes have lost a limb!” 
And at the word his joyous train 
Raise high the pean hymn. 
The chief replies : “« Whate’er thy name, 
Not long shall be thy hour of pride: 
The same dark powers thy presence claim, 
And soon shall stretch thee at my side.” 
Mezentius answers, smiling stern ; 


24 


370 THE ZENEID. 


“Die thou: my fate is Jove’s concern.” 
This said, the javelin from the wound 
He plucked with main and might: 
A heavy slumber iron-bound 
Seals the dull eyes in rest profound: 
They close in endless night. 


Now Cedicus Alcathous kills, 
Hydaspes’ life Sacrator spills, 
And Orses and Parthenius feel 
The unbated edge of Rapo’s steel: 
And Lycaonian Ericete 
And Clonius to Messapus yield, 
This fallen beneath his horse’s feet, 
That foot to foot o’erthrown in field. 
Proud Agis pranced along the ground, 
But Valerus like his sires renowned 
The haughty Lycian slays: 
Salius had stricken Thronius low, 
But quickly finds a deadlier foe, 
Nealces, skilled the dart to throw 
Or send the arrow from the bow 
Through unsuspected ways. 
The God of war with heavy hand 
Impartial deals to either band 
The horrors of the fight: 
By turns they fall, by turns they strike, 
Conquered and conquering, each alike 
Intolerant of flight. 
™ Jove’s high courts the gods afar 
Look sadly on the unending war, 
And sigh that men to death decreed 
Should idly slaughter, idly bleed. 
There Venus sits the fray to see, 
Saturnian Juno here : 
Down in the field Tisiphone 


BOOK X. 371 


Spreads havoc far and near. 


Now, shaking his tremendous lance, 
Mezentius makes renewed advance : 
Huge as Orion’s frame appears, 

What time on foot he strides 
Through Nereus’ watery realm, and rears 
His shoulder o’er the tides, 
Or when, with ashen trunk in hand 
Uptorn from mountain high, 
He plants his footstep on the land, 
His forehead in the sky : 
So towering high in steel array 
Mezentius marches to the fray. 
Afneas marks him far away 
And hastes his mighty foe to meet: 
Firm stands the foe without dismay, 
Like column rooted to its-seat: 
Then nicely measures with his eye 
The distance due for lance to fly. 
“ Now hear my prayer, my spear steel-tipped 
And thou, my good right hand: 
A votive trophy, all equipped 
With spoils from yon false pirate stripped, 
To-day, shall Lausus stand: ” 
He spoke, and forth his javelin threw: 
From the broad shield apart it flew, 
And piercing deep ’twixt side and flank 
In brave Antores’ frame it sank,— 
Antores, who, from Argos sped, 
Once followed where Alcides led, 
Then to Evander’s fortunes clave, 
And took the home his patron gave: 
Now, prostrate by an unmeant wound, 
In death he welters on the ground, 
‘And gazing on Italian skies 


372 THE ANEID. 


Of his loved Argos dreams, and dies. 

His javelin then Afneas cast ; 

Through triple plate of bronze it passed, 
Thick quilt, and hide threefold, 

Till in the groin it lodged at last, 
But might not further hold. 

neas sees with glistening eye 
The Tuscan’s life-blood flow, 

Plucks forth the falchion from his thigh, 
And threats the wounded foe. 


When Lausus thus his sire beheld, 
A heart-fetched groan he drew : 
Hot tears within his eyelids swelled, 
And trickled down in dew. 
Now let me, glorious youth, relate 
Your gallant act, your piteous fate : 
Perchance antiquity may plead 
For credence of so bright a deed. 
The sire, encumbered and unstrung, 
Moves backward o’er the field, 
And trails the spear the Trojan flung 
Still dangling from his shield. 
Forth sprang the generous youth betwixt 
And fearless with the combat mixed: 
E’en as Afneas aimed a stroke 
With upraised arm, its force he broke, 
Himself sustained the lifted blade, 
And, shield in hand, the conqueror stayed. 
Loud clamoring, the confederate train 
Protect the sire’s retreat, 
And on the foe at distance rain 
Their driving arrowy sleet. 
With gathering wrath Atneas glows, 
And, cased in armor, shuns the blows. 
As when the hail’s chill stores descend 


BOOK X. 373 


In tempest from the skies, 
Each swain that wont the plow to tend 
To speedy covert flies, 
The traveler hides his fenceless head 
In caverned rock or torrent’s bed, 
Till parting clouds restore the sun, 
And man resumes the day begun: 
So stands Afneas “neath the blast 
Of wintry war, till all be past, 
And chiding, threatening, seeks to stay 
Young Lausus from his bold essay : 
“Fond youth! why rush so fast on fate, 
And spend your strength on task too great, 
Love blinds you to impending ill ”— 
In vain; the fond youth rages still 
And now more fierce the passions rise 
That lighten from the Trojan’s eyes, 
And Lausus miserable thread 
The hand of Fate at length must shred: 
Lo! with full force Afneas drives 
The weapon, and his bosom rives. 
Through the light shield that made him bold, 
The vest his mother wove with gold, 
The blade held on: his breast runs o’er 
With gurgling rivulets of gore ; 
While to the phantom world away 
Flits the sad soul and leaves the clay. 
But when Anchises’ son surveyed 
The fair, fair face, so ghastly made, 
He groaned, by tenderness unmanned, 
And stretched the sympathizing hand, 
As reproduced he sees once more 
The love that to his sire he bore. 
“« Alas! what honor, hapless youth, 
To those great deeds, the soul of truth, 
Can good Atneas show ? 


374 THE ABNEID. 


Keep the frail arms you loved to wear: 

The lifeless corpse I yield to share 

(If thought like this still claim your care) 
Your father’s tomb below. 

Yet take this solace to the grave ; 

*Twas great Atneas’ hand that gave 
The inevitable blow.” 

With that he chides his friends’ delay, 

And rears from earth the bleeding clay, 

Redabbling as it lay with gore 

The dainty locks so trim before. 


Meantime the sire by Tiber’s flood 
Was stanching the yet flowing blood, 
On tree’s broad bole recumbent stayed 
And sheltered by its kindly shade. 
High on the branches hangs his casque: 
His arms, reposing from their task, 

In meadow-grasses rest : 

His mates stand round in friendly ring: 
Panting and weak the wounded king 
Eases his faint neck, scattering 

His beard adown his breast. 

Of Lausus oft he asks, and sends 
Full many a charge by hand of friends 

To call him back from field. 

Alas! e’en then the weeping train 
Were bearing Lausus o’er the plain, 
The mighty by the mighty slain, 

And stretched upon his shield. 
The distant wail, prolonged and drear, 
Smote on the sire’s prophetic ear. 

At once in bitterness of woe 

He mars with dust his locks of snow, 
Ilis hands to heaven despairing flings, 
And fondly to the body clings. 


BOOK X. 375 


«“ My son! and held I life so sweet, 
That I, your sire, could let you meet 
For me the foeman’s steel, 
By your last gasp preserve my breath, 
Kept living by my darling’s death ? 
Ay, now is exile’s woe complete, 
Now, now my wound I feel! 
Dear child! I stained your glorious name 
By my own crimes, driven out to shame 
From my ancestral reign : 
My country’s vengeance claimed my blood: 
Wretch! had I suffered where I stood, 
By all her javelins slain ! 
Now ’mid my kind I linger still 
And live: but leave the light I will.” 
Thus as he pours the bitter cry 
He rears him on his crippled thigh, 
And, though the deep wound slacks his speed, 
Calls proudly for his warrior steed ; 
The warrior steed he wont to ride, 
His consolation and his pride, 
Which ever still, at fall of night, 
Had borne him conqueror from the fight: 
And thus bespeaks in kindly tone 
The beast whose sorrow matched his own : 
« Long have we fared through life, old friend, 
If aught be long that: death must end. 
Now, Rhebus will we twain to-day 
A glorious trophy bear away, 
The Trojan’s arms and severed head, 
In vengeance for my Lausus dead: - 
Or if the vantage be denied, 
We twain will perish side by side : 
For ne’er, I ween, my gallant horse, 
Will soul so generous stoop perforce 
To other mastery, nor deign 


376 THE AINEID. 


That Trojan hand should sleek thy mane.” 
He said, and mounting to his selle 
Pressed the proud sides he knew so well, 
In either hand a javelin took, 
And his plumed crest disdainful shook : 
. So rushed he on the foe, 

While kindling in each throbbing vein 
A warrior’s pride, a father’s pain 

With mingled madness glow. 
Three times he called Aineas’ name : 
Eneas hears the loud acclaim, 

And prays with fierce delight, 
“ Grant, mighty Jove, Apollo, grant 
This challenge prove no empty vaunt ! 

Begin, begin the fight ! ” 
He said, and with uplifted spear 
Confronts the foe in mid career : 
But he : “ What means this threatening strain 
To fright me, now my child is slain ? 
*T was thus, and thus alone your dart 
Could penetrate Mezentius’ heart : 
I fear not death, nor ask to live, 
Nor quarter take from heaven, nor give. 
Forbear : I come to meet my end, 
And these my gift before me send.” 
He speaks, and at the word he wings 

A javelin at the foe : 
Then circling round in rapid rings 
Another and another flings : 

The good shield bides each blow. 
Thrice, fiercely hurling spears on spears, 
From right to left he wheeled : 
Thrice, facing round as he careers, 
The steely grove the Trojan bears, 

Thick planted on his shield. 
At length, impatient of delay, 


BOOK X. 377 


Wearied with plucking spears away, 
Indignant at the unequal fray, 
His wary fence he leaves, 
And, issuing with resistless force, 
The temples of the gallant horse 
With darted javelins cleaves. 
The good steed rears and wildly sprawls, 
Distracted with its wound ; 
Then heavily on the rider falls, 
And pins him to the ground. 
Fierce shouts, enkindling all the air, 
From either host arise : 
Forth springs the chief, with falchion bare, 
And thus triumphant cries : 
“ Stay, where is proud Mezentius now ? 
Where sleep the terrors of his brow ? ” 
Recovering sense, with upturned eyes 
The Tuscan, gasping, made reply : J 
“ Stern foe, why waste your threatening breath ? 
He wrongs me not, who works my death 
When late I dared you to the strife, 
I made no covenant for life, é 
Nor he, my Lausus, e’er such pledge ( 
Accepted from your weapon’s edge. 
One boon (if vanquished foe may crave 
The victor’s grace) I ask, a otkve. 
My wrathful subjects round me wait: 
Protect me from their savage hate, 
And let me in the tomb enjoy 
The presence of my slaughtered boy.” 
He said, and to the conqueror’s sword 
His throat unshrinking gave: 
The life-blood, o’er his armor poured, 
Spreads wide its crimson wave. 


378 THE AENEID. 


BOOK XI. 


ARGUMENT.—Aineas erects a trophy of the spoils of 
Mezentius, grants a truce for burying the dead, and sends 
home the body of Pallas with great solemnity. Latinus 
calls a council to propose offers of peace to Aineas, which 
occasions great animosity between Turnus and Drances. 
In the meantime, there is a sharp engagement of the 
horse, wherein Camilla signalizes herself, is killed, 


and the Latian troops are entirely defeated. 


Morn rose meantime from ocean’s bed: 

neas, though his comrades dead 

His instant care invite, 
Still wildered by the bloody day, 
Yet hastes his votive dues to pay 

With dawn of earliest light. 
An oak with branches lopped all round 
He plants upon a lofty mound, 

And hangs with armor bright, 
Mezentius’ warrior panoply, 
A glorious trophy, vowed to thee, 

Great ruler of the fight. 
There stands the helm, besprent with gore, 
The spent snapped darts in life he bore, 
The hauberk mail, whose twisted rows 
Twelve ghastly apertures disclose: 
The buckler on the left is hung, 
And from the neck the falchion slung. 
Then thus the conqueror addressed 
The exulting chiefs who round him pressed: 
“ \ mighty deed, my friends, is done: 

The future craves no fear ; 
These spoils are from the tyrant won ; 


BOOK XI. 379 


See battle’s first-fruits here ! 
Behold, the great Mezentius stands, 
The master-work of these my hands! 
Look next to march where glory calls, 
To king Latinus and the walls ; 

Let courage dream of deeds of might, 
And dazzling hope forestall the fight ; 
So, when at last in prosperous hour 
Heaven bids us marshal forth our power, 
No ignorance shall breed delay, 

No coward fears our onset stay. 

Now turn we to our comrades slain, 
The mighty dead that load the plain, 
And pay to each the rites we owe, 

The sole sad joy that specters know. 
Haste we,” he cries, “ consign to earth 
The flesh that clothed those souls of worth, 
Who gave their precious lives to win 
This land of ours for us, their kin: 
First send we to Evander’s town 

Brave Pallas, heir of high renown, 
Whose hopeful day has set too soon, 
O’ercast by darkness ere its noon.” 


So spake he, dropping tears like dew; 

Then sought the tent again, 
Where old Accetes, liegeman true, 

Was watching o’er the slain. 
Accetes, who in times of yore 
Evander’s arms in battle bore, 
Since called by fate less kind to tend 
The royal heir, his guide and friend. 
The gathered menials round him stand, 
And dames of Troy, a mourning band, 

Their flowing locks unbound. 
Soon as Atneas meets their sight, 


380 THE ANEID. 


They shriek to heaven, their breasts they smite : 
The walls return the sound. 
There when he saw the pillowed head, 
The bloodless features of the dead, 
And on the ivory breast displayed 
The wound that Turnus’ javelin made, 
Once more the pitying tear he shed, 
And words their utterance found : 
“Unhappy youth! and can it be 
That Fortune, in her happier hour, 
Has grudged you to partake with me 
The spectacle of nhew-won power, 
And homeward ride in conquering car, 
Triumphant from the field of war? 
Not such the oath I swore that day 
To your lorn father, old and gray, 
When, ere he sped me on my way, 
He clasped my hand in fond embrace, 
And warned me, fierce would prove the fray, 
And stern the temper of the race. 
E’en now perchance by hope beguiled 
He makes oblation for his child, 
And ealls on heaven to save 5 
We sadly render to the shade 
Whose every debt to heaven is paid 
The due that specters crave. 
Tis yours, ill-fated, to behold 
The son you look for dead and cold! 
Is this our proud procession ? these 
Our triumph’s boasted pageantries, 
And this the pledge I gave? 
But not from field of battle chased, 
By ignominious wounds disgraced 
Your darling shall return, 
Nor you, his father, pray for death 
To stop your scant remains of breath, 


BOOK XI. 


Whiie he survives in scorn. 
Mourn, sad Ausonia! mourn thy fate, 
Left of thy guardian desolate, 

And thou, Iulus, mourn!” 


His wailing o’er, he gives command 
To raise the mournful load, 
And bids a thousand of his band 
Attend its homeward road, 
With charge to comfort and condole 
Weak cordial to the father’s soul, 
Yet such as friendship owed : 
While others weave without delay 
Of oaken branch and arbute spray 
A funeral bier, and deftly spread 
Soft leaves above the pliant bed. 
There high on rural couch displayecl 
The body of the youth is laid; 
So cropped by maiden’s finger lies 
A hyacinth or violet ; 
Its graceful mold, its glowing dyes 
Undimmed, unwasted yet, 
Though parent earth afford no more 
The vital juice it drank before. 
Next brings the chief two mantles fair 
Deep dyed with dazzling red ; 
Pheenicia’s hapless queen whilere, 
So prodigal of loving care, 
Had wrought them for her hero’s wear 
And pranked with golden thread. 
Full soon with one the lifeless frame 
In funeral guise he wound: 
The tresses that must feed the flame 
With one he muffled round. 
Then at his word in long array 
The attendants marshal forth the prey, 


381 


89 THE NEID. 


wo 


Memorials of Laurentumy’s fray ; 
And weapons from the foeman ta’en 
And fiery chargers swell the train. 
There walks with hands fast bound behind 
The victim prisoners, designed 
For slaughter o’er the flames ; 
And mighty warriors march erect 
’Neath trunks with arms of foemen decked 
And marked with hostile names. 
Then sad Accetes, worn with years, 
Moves on, by others led: 
Ilis breast he beats, his cheeks he tears, 
And rolls on earth outspread. 
There too is seen the dead man’s car, 
Blood-sprinkled from Rutulian war. 
Then Atthon comes, his trappings doffed, 
The warrior’s gallant horse: 
Big drops of pity oft and oft 
Adown his visage course. 
In sad procession others bring 
The lance and helm: the Rutule king 
Is lord of all but those : 
And Teucrian, Tuscan, Arcade bands, 
Their spears inverted in their hands, 
The mournful pageant close. 
Now, as the train at length goes by, 
ABneas speaks with deep-drawn sigh : 
“Fate calls us other tears to shed, 
And we must needs obey : 
Hail, mighty firstling of the dead 5 
Hail and farewell for aye!” 
Then turns him back, the greeting said, 
And campward takes his way. 


Now from Laurentum’s town appear 
Ambassadors sedate and grave 5 


BOOK XI. 383 


Thick olive boughs in hand they bear, 
And for indulgence crave : 

Be burial granted to the slain 

Whose mangled bodies load the plain : 

No war may soldier wage, they say, 

With vanquished men and senseless clay : 

Who once his hosts, his kin were styled 

Should find him e’en in victory mild. 

The good Aineas owns their plea, 

And thus bespeaks them courteously : 

“What mischief, Latians, makes you slight 

Our proffered love, and plunge in fight? 

Ask ye that war in death may cease ? 

Fain would I grant the living peace. 

I had not sought you, but the voice 

Of oracles compelled my choice ; 

Fate bade me here my city place ; 

Nor war I with the Latian race. 

No; ’twas your king forsook his word, 

And Turnus’ arms to mine preferred. 

If Turnus waked the flames of strife, 

’T were just that Turnus risked his life, 

To end the war by force of hand 

And drive the Trojans from the land,. 

If such his boast, his part had been 

To meet me here with blade as keen, 

And he had lived who won the right 

From favoring Gods or inborn might, 

Go now, prepare the funeral pyre, 

And give your hapless friends to fire.” 


Heended. Wildered with amaze 
In silence each on each they gaze. 
Then Drances, he whose age pursued ! 
The Daunian youth with bitter feud, 
Still prompt injurious taunts to fling, 


O84 THE ANEID. 


Makes answer to Dardania’s king : 
“Q great in fame, in deeds more great! 
What eloquence your worth can mate ? 
Say, which may first our praise demand, 
The just man’s heart, the brave man’s hand ? 
Soon shall this grateful train convey 
Back to our peers the words you say, 
And, let but chance the means afford, 
Unite you to our gracious lord. 
Should Turnus gainsay or deny, 
Let Turnus seek some new ally. 
Nay, Latium’s sons shall spend their pains 
To build the walls your fate ordains, 
And nerve and sinew task with joy 
In shouldering up the stones of Troy.” 
So Drances spoke : and all the rest 
With loud acclaim their mind expressed. 
For twice six days a truce is fixed, 
And there, while concord reigns betwixt, 
Teucrian and Latin, freely mixed, 

O’er hill and woodland stray. 
The sharp ax rings upon the ash ; 
Heaven-kissing elms in ruin crash : 
The forceful wedge with stroke on stroke 
Splits cedarn core and heart of oak ; 
And bullocks, groaning “neath the yoke, 

Bear the full wains away. 


Now Fame, sad harbinger of grief, 
Comes flying to the Arcadian chief, 
And fills with doleful trumpet-blast 
The palace and the town ; 
Fame, whose shrill voice, a moment past, 
Had told the tale of slaughter vast 
And Pallas’ young renown. 
Swift through the gate Arcadia’s bands 


BOOK XI. 


Pour forth, with torches in their hands, 
So ancient rule ordains: 
The highway glimmers, sadly bright, 
One line of long funereal light, 
That parts the dusky plains. 
Now, marching mournfully along, 
The Phrygians join their wailing throng. 
The matrons see the crowd draw nigh 
And rend the heaven with piercing cry. 
No force can old Evander stay : 
With breathless haste he takes his way, 
And failing on the rested bier 
Hangs o’er his child with groan and tear; 
At last the refluent wave of woe 
Gives scanty room for speech to flow: 
“QO Pallas! parting from your sire 
Far other pledge you gave, 
To moderate your martial fire 
Nor wavr’s worst fury brave! 
I knew the young blood’s maddening play, 
The charm of battle’s first essay. 
O valor blighted in the flower! 
O first dread drops of war’s full shower! 
O prayers unheard, rejected vows, 
And thou, my lost, my sacred spouse, 
Blest in thy death, nor spared to see 
This uttermost calamity, 
While I have overlived my span, 
To linger on, a childless man ! 
Ah ! had I joined the Dardan train, 
And fallen by Rutule javelins slain, 
And this your escort of the dead 
Conveyed me home in Pallas’ stead! 
Nor you, ye Trojans, I upbraid, 
The faith we swore, the league we made: 
A lot like this, of hopeless tears, 
25 


385 


356 THE AINEID. 


Was due to my declining years. 

If early death was his decreed, 

*Twas comfort that he thus should bleed, 

As Troy to Latium’s walls he led 

Through fields his arm with death had spread. 

Nor e’en for you, dear child, could sire 

A worthier sepulture desire 

Than this which good Aneas deigns 

In honor to your loved remains, 

Where Phrygia’s mightiest shed the tear 

And all Etruria tends the bier. 

Proud trophies to your praise they yield, 

The chiefs you tumble on the field: 

Thou, Turnus, too, hadst swelled his fame, 
A mighty trunk with armor hung, 

Had time but made his years the same, 
His arm with equal vigor strung. 

But why with helpless wail delay 

A host impatient for the fray ? 

Go, to your gallant prince remit 

My charge, upon your memory writ: 

If thus bereaved I linger yet, 

Tis from your hand to claim my debt, 

The life of Turnus, doubly due 

To Pallas and his father too: 

This niche alone is vacant still 

For fortune and desert to fill. 

Not now to glad this life of mine 

I ask—forbid it, powers divine! 

No; down to darkness I would bear 

The joy, and with my darling share.” 


Meantime the gracious Dawn displays 
To wretched men her genial rays, 
And calls to work once more : 
Stout Tarchon and the Trojan sire 


BOOK XI. 387 


Are rearing many a funeral pyre 

Along the winding shore. 
Here, as his country’s rites ordain, 
Each brings his brave compatriots slain, 
And while the dusk flames mount on high 
A veil of darkness shrouds the sky. 
Thrice ride they round each lighted pyre, 

Encased in glittering mail, 
Thrice circle the funereal fire, 

And raise their piercing wail. 
Earth, armor, all with tears are dewed, 
And warrior-shouts and clarions rude 

The vault of heaven assail. 
There others on the embers throw 
Rich booty, reft from slaughtered foe, 
The helm, the ivory-hilted steel, 
The bridle and the glowing wheel : 
While some cast in the dead man’s gear, 
The treacherous shield, the luckless spear. 
Around they butcher herds of kine, 
And soothe the shades with bristly swine, 
And cattle, from the neighboring mead 
Swiit harried, o’er the death-fires bleed. 
Far down the line of coast they gaze 
On kinsmen shriveling in the blaze, 

And fondly watch the bier, 
Nor tear them from the hallowed ground, 
Till dewy night the sky rolls round 

And makes the stars appear. 


Sad Latium for her part the while 
Builds otherwhere full many a pile: 
Some on the field their slain inhume, 
Some send them forth to distant tomb, 

Or to the city bear ; 
The rest in undistinguished mass 


338 THE AENEID. 


They burn, unheeding rank or class ; 
The wide plains flicker through the gloom 
With ghastly funeral glare. 
And now the third return of day 
Had made the dewy night give way: 
Sighing they tumble from each pyre 
The hills of mingled dust, 
And heat them, tepid from the fire, 
With mounded earthen crust. 
3ut in the royal city chief 
Swell loud and high the sounds of grief ; 
There mothers of their sons bereft, 
Young brides to widowed misery left, 
Fond hearts of sisters, nigh to break, 
And orphan boys their wailing make, 
Cry malison on Turnus’ head 
And execrate his bridal bed : 
Who fain would wear Italia’s crown 
Alone to battle should come down, 
To triumph or to fall. 
Loud clamors Drances, and attests 
In Turnus’ hand the issue rests, 
For him the Trojans call. 
And Turnus too can boast his throng 
With voices manifold and strong : 
The cherished favor of the queen 
Protects him with a mighty screen, 
And many a deed of valor bold 
And trophy won his fame uphold. 


While thus men’s passions heave and rage 
And tumult fiercest burns, 
With doleful news the embassage 
From Diomed returns: 
Tis idly spent, their toil and pain, 
Gifts, gold, entreaties, all in vain; 


BOOK Xi. 


Elsewhere must Latium seek relief, 
Or yield her to the Trojan chief. 
Latinus quails, and bends him low 
Before the giant wave of woe: 
Heaven’s wrath in sad reverses read, 
The earth new mounded o’er the dead, 
All warn him with presaging voice 
neas is the Gods’ true choice : 
So Latium’s wisest sons he calls 
To council in the palace halls. 
They meet, and flooding all the road 
Stream onward to their king’s abode: 
Midmost, in age and state the chief, 
Latinus sits with face of grief, 
Invites the lately-missioned train, 
And bids them point by point explain. 
Then talk is stilled, and Venulus, 
The charge obeying, answers thus : 
“ Townsmen of Latium! we have seen 
King Tiomed in his home: 
Each perilous chance that lay between 
Is mastered and o’ercome ; 
The hand that leveled Ilium’s towers 
In friendship has been clasped in ours. 
We found him on his work intent, 
By might of victor hand 
Rearing an Argive settlement 
In Iapygian land. 
Admisson to his presence gained, 
And privilege of speech obtained, 
We tender gifts to buy his grace, 
Inform him of our name and race, 
Tell who our foe, and what the cause 
Our embassy to Arpi draws. 
He hears, and with untroubled eye 
And courteous accent makes reply: 


co 


390 THE JENEID. 


‘ Blest nations of Ausonian strain, 
The heirs of Saturn’s golden reign, 
What chance disturbs your peace, and goads 
To rush on war’s untrodden roads ? 
All, all our chiefs who erst combined 
To sweep the Trojans from mankind 
(Let pass the sufferings in the field, 
The dead by Simois’ wave concealed) 
Alike have drained *heath every sky 
The cup of penal agony, 
A hapless crew, whose lorn estate 
K’en Priam would compassionate, 
As Pallas’ baleful star can tell, 
And grim Caphareus knows too well. 
The perils of our warfare o’er, 
Outcast we fly from shore to shore: 
Lo, Menelaus borne away 
To Proteus’ pillars all astray! 
Ulysses, sorest tried of men, 
’Neath Adtna sees the Cyclops’ den. 
What need to tell of Pyrrhus slain, 
Idomeneus expelled his reign, 
And Locrians driven, their country lost, 
To make their homes on Libya’s coast? 
K’en he, Mycene’s mighty lord, 
Who led us when at Troy we warred, 
In his own hall shed out his life 
By hand of his adulterous wite : 
As Asia sinks in fight subdued, 
The paramour takes up the feud. 
O jealous Heaven, that no return 

To hapless Diomed allows, 
To see his home’s dear altars burn 

And greet his wished-for spouse ; 
Nay, dreadful prodigies of ill 
With ghastly presence hound me still; 


BOOK XI. 391 


My comrades lost before my eyes 
Are turned to birds, and wing the skies, 
Haunt, cruel change, the banks of streams, 
And fill the rocks with piteous screams. 
Such was the extremity of fate 
On my transgression doomed to wait, 
E’er since with heavenly ichor stained 
My javelin Venus’ hand profaned. 
Then ask me not to tempt anew 
The fight whose memory yet I rue: 
Since Ilium tumbled from its base, 
I war not with the Teucrian race ; 
Nor joy nor memory have I 
Of sufferings vanished and gone by. 
The presents that your country sends 
May make you yet Atneas’ friends. 
Myself have faced him on the field 
And tried the combat’s chance ; 
I know the arms his arm can wield. 
The thunder of his lifted shield, 
The lightning of his lance. 
Two chiefs beside in strength as great 
Had Ida’s region borne, 
Troy’s sons had knocked at Argos’ gate 
Unbidden, and reverse of fate 
Had made Achaia mourn. 
Count up the weary months we spent 
Neath Ilium’s stubborn battlement, 
’T was Hector’s and Aineas’ power 
Delayed so long the conquering hour, 
Till in the tenth slow year it came 
At last, with halting feet and lame. 
Brave warriors both alike ; but he, 
Aneas, first in piety. 
Join hands in peace, if so ye may, 
But meet not arms with arms in fray,’ 


392 THE AINEID. 


Thus spoke, my lord, the monarch sage, 
And thus he judged the war we wage.” 
The ambassadors had scarcely done, 
Loud murmurs through the council run, 

Of multiform intent ; 
So, checked by rocks, the rapid flood 
Chafes wildly, loth to be withstood, 
And struggles for a vent, 
While bank and riverside around 
Remurmur to the impatient sound. 
Soon as the hum of tongues was stayed 
And the wild storm in quiet laid, 
Due preface to the Gods addressed, 
The king enthroned his mind expressed. 


“T would, ye peers, that Latium’s state 
At earlier time had claimed debate, 
Nor I been driven a court to call 
With foemen clustering round our wall. 
A fearful war, my friends, is ours, 
Waged with a race of godlike powers : 
No wounds their energy can tame: 
Win they or lose, they fight the same : 
Who thought on Diomed to rely 
Must lay that hope forever by : 

Each from himself his hope must seek 3 
But hopes like ours, alas! are weak. 
How low has fallen our common weal 
Your eyes can see, you senses feel, 

I censure none ; each gallant man 

Has done the most that valor can : 

The forces of a nation’s life 

Have all been lavished on the strife. 
Now hearken while I show the scheme 
My doubting thoughts the wisest deem. 
Where Tiber irrigates the plain, 


BOOK XI. 398 


A tract there lies, my own domain, 
Stretching beyond the bounds possessed 
By old Sicanians, far a-west ; 

The Rutules and Auruncans till 

Its mingled range of dale and hill, 

Scar the rude mountain with their plows, 
And bid their herds the thickets browse. 
That tract, that slope of mountain pine, 
To Troy I purpose to resign : 

Let peace an equal rule ordain 

And make them partners in our reign: 
There let the wanderers sit them down, 
If such their wish, and build their town 5 
But should they other lands desire 

And from our soil may yet retire, 

Twice ten good vessels let us build 

Or more, if more may well be filled ; 
Good store e’en now of seasoned wood 

Is hewn and lying by the flood ; 

Fix they the rate and number; we 

Give fittings, brass, and labor free, 

Let two ambassadors be sent 

Whose pleading may the peace cement, 
A hundred men, of noblest race, 

Boughs in their hands, to sue tor grace, 
With gifts of ivory and of gold, 

A talent each by measure told, 

And these the emblems of our reign, 
The throne, the robe of purple grain. 
Give counsel for the general need, 

And stanch the wounds that newly bleed.” 


Then Drances, he whom Turnus’ fame 
Still kindled into jealous flame, 
Lavish, and dowered with wordy skill, 
In battle spiritless and chill, 


894 THE ASNEID. 


At council-board a name of weight, 
Powerful in faction and debate, 

His mother’s house to kings allied, 
Inglorious on his father’s side, 

Stands up, and thus with artful phrase 
Fans smoldering passion into blaze : 
“'Too plain the answer that you seek, 
Good king, nor needs my voice to speak : 
The state’s true interest none dispute, 
But muttering terror holds them mute. 
Let him the while free speech allow, 
And calm the thunder of his brow, 
Whose ill-starred fate, whose unblest pride, 
Sent for our sins the war to guide— 
Ay, though with arms and death he threat 
My safety, he shall hear me yet— 

Have quenched the life of many a chief, 
And plunged a city deep in grief, 
While, trusting to retreat, he tries 
Troy’s camp, and menaces the skies. 
Send one gift more, great prince, besides 
The rest your care for Troy provides, 
One more; nor let tempestuous frown 
Or bluster bear your purpose down, 

But give your child a fitting lord, 

And bind two realms in firm accord. 
Nay, if such craven fear we feel, 

Let Latium to her master kneel, 

Pray him of grace his claim to waive 
And yield what king and country crave. 
Why drive to death your nation still, 

O guilty cause of all this ill? 

No hope from war: for peace we sue, 
For peace, and peace’s sanction true. 
See, I, the man you feign your foe 

(Nor care I though in truth ’twere so), 


BOOK XI. 395 


First of the train the suit begin : 
Have merey on your wretched kin, 
Allay your pride, confess defeat, 
And routed from the strife retreat! 
Suffice it us, those heaps of killed, 
Those fields unpeopled and untilled. 
Or, if ambition yet has charms, 

If courage thus your bosom warms, 
If spousal kingdoms seem so sweet, 
Be bold, your rival’s arm to meet. 
Forsooth, that an imperial bride 
May gratify our Turnus’ pride, 

We, worthless souls, must needs be swept 
To death, unburied and unwept. 
Now, if one generous spark remains 
Of native fire in those dull veins, 
Front him that calls you, eye to eye, 
And, oft defied, in turn defy !” 


That taunt the rage of Turnus woke: 
He groaned and into utterance broke: 
“ High, Drances, swells your stream of words, 
When battle claims not tongues but swords: 
When council gathers to the hall, 
You still are there, the first of all: 
But needs not now the court to fill 
With that big talk you vent at will 
While ramparts yet the foe repel, 
Nor choked-up moats with carnage swell. 
Then roll your thunders, storm and rave ; 
Be Turnus coward, and Drances brave: 
Since yours the hand that heaps our plain 
With trophied trunks and hills of slain. 
What valor at its heat can do 
We twain may try, myself and you: 
No distant foemen wait our call: 


396 THE ASNEID. 


Behold them mustered round the wall! 
Come, march we forth to meet the foe! 
What, Drances linger? why so slow ? 
Has Mars found out no worthier seat 
Than that loose tongue, those flying feet ? 
Confess defeat ? I routed? I? 

Who dares retail that cankerous lie? 
Who, that has seen old Tiber’s flood 
Foaming and swollen with Dardan blood, 
Evander’s stock at once laid low, 

And Arcade vanquished at a blow ? 

Not bitias thus and Pandarus found 

The hand that brought them to the ground, 
Or the great host to death I sent 

By trench and hostile rampart pent. 

‘No hope from war.’ Go, dotard, drone 
In ears of Dardans, or your own; 

Spread wild alarms, extol the powers 

Of twice-foiled tribes, disparage ours. 
Now Myrmidons are all afraid 

Of conquering Phrygia’s ruthless blade 3 
Now fails the heart of Diomede 

And Peleus’ Larisszean seed, 

And Aufidus recoils with dread 

From Hadria to his fountain-head. 

Or hear the trickster when he feigns 

He cowers before my threatening strains, 
And, counterfeiting fear, forsooth, 

Adds venom to his serpent tooth! 

No, Drances ; ne’er shall you resign 

Such life as yours to hand of mine: 

No; let it dwell with you, nor quit 

A mansion for its use so fit. 

Now, gracious Sire, my thoughts return 
To that your theme of high concern. 

If, baffled, you relinquish hope 


BOOK XI. 397 


That Latium’s arms with Troy may cope, 
If our estate have fallen so low, 

Crushed by a single overthrow, 

Nor Fortune can her steps retrace, 
Stretch we weak hands and sue for grace. 
Yet O! were aught of valor here, 

Sure his were deemed the happiest cheer, 
Who, sooner than behold such stain, 

Fell prone, and dying, bit the plain. 

But if resources still are ours, 

Unbroken still our martial powers, 

If Italy e’en yet affords 

Fresh tribes to draw their friendly swords, 
If Trojan blood in streams has run 

To gain the vantage Troy has won 

(For they too have their deaths ; the blast 
Of withering war o’er all has passed), 
Why fail we on the threshold? why, 

Ere sounds the trumpet, quake and fly ? 
Time, toil, and circumstance full oft 

A humbled cause have raised aloft, 

And Fortune whom she mocked before 
Has placed on solid ground once more. 
AKtolian Diomede will send 

No help our efforts to befriend ; 

But brave Messapus yet is here, 
Tolumnius too, auspicious seer, 

And all the chiefs of all the bands 

That swell our ranks from neighboring lands: 
Nor scant the trophies that await 

The flower of Latium’s own estate. 
Camilla too, the Volscian maid, 

Her horseman brings in steel arrayed. 

If ’tis on me the Trojans call 

And my one life imperils all, 

Not all so weak these hands of mine 


898 » THE ANEID. 


That I the combat should decline. 
Nay, though Achilles’ self be there 
And Vulcan make him arms to wear, 
I, yet will meet him. Tere I stand, 
I, Turnus, like my fathers manned, 
And pledge the life your needs require 
To you and to my own wife’s sire. 
>Tis I the Phrygian claims to meet: 
Pray Heaven the challenge he repeat, 
Nor in my stead let Drances pay 

His forfeit breath or win the day!” 


Thus they in passionate debate 

The weary hours prolong : 

AEneas through the encampment’s gate 
Leads forth his armed throng. 

A messenger comes hastening down 

And fills the palace and the town 
With tumult and dismay ; 

«The Trojan and the Tuscan train 

From Tiber pour along the plain 
In battle’s stern array.” 

A turmoil takes the public mind ; 

Their passions flame, by furious wind 
To conflagration blown: 

At once to arms they fain would fly : 
«To arms!” the youth impatient cry: 
The old men weep and moan. 

A dissonance of various cries 

Keep swelling, soaring to the skies, 
As when in lofty wood 

Birds settle, lighting in a cloud, 

Or swans make clangor hoarse and loud 
Along Padusa’s flood. 

« Ay, sit,” cries Turnus, striking in 

As for an instant flags the din, 


BOOK XI. 


« Sit still, and while of peace you prate 
Let foeman armed assail your gate!” 
He spoke, and speaking rushed away : 
“ You, Voluscus, in arms array 

The Volscian’s warlike power ; 
Lead out the Rutules: Coras too, 
Catillus, and Messapus, you 

With horse the champaign scour. 
Let others every inlet guard, 
And on the towers keep watch and ward : 
The residue myself obey, 
And follow where I point the way.” 
Forth from the city, one and all, 
They rush, and hurry to the wall: 
Latinus, bowed with grief, adjourns 
The council and its high concerns, 

And oft himself he blames, 
Who gave not to his daughter fair 
A husband, to the state an heir, 

Nor owned the Trojan’s claims. 
Before the gate some trenches make, 
Or load their backs with stone and stake : 

The trump peals shrill and clear : 
Matrons and boys enring the wall 
In close array: the last dread call 

Resounds in every ear. 

Now up to Pallas’ rock-built fane 
The queen amid a matron train 

Is borne in stately car ; 
With her Lavinia, maiden chaste, 
Her lovely eyes to earth abased, 

Fair author of the war. 

Beneath the dome the matrons crowd, 

And bid the incense smoke, 

And thus with lamentation loud 

The guardian power invoke : 


399 


400 THE ASNEID. 


«“ Tritonian maiden, name of fear, 
Controller of the fray, 
O break the Phrygian pirate’s spear! 
Himself in dust, protectress dear, 
Beneath our rampart lay !” 
Impatient Turnus, all ablaze, 
His manly limbs for fight arrays. 
Now mailed with chainwork round his breast, 
His legs in golden cuishes dressed, 
His head still bare to view, 

He flashed in armor’s golden pride, 
His sword loose hanging from his side, 
As down the height he flew ; 

With fervid heat his spirits glow, 
And eager hope forestalls the foe. 
As when, his halter snapped, the steed 
Darts forth, rejoicing to be freed, 
And ranges o’er the open mead, 
Keen life in every limb: 
Now hies he to the pastured mares, 
Now to the well-known river fares, 
Where oft he wont to swim : 
He tosses high his head, and neighs: 
His mane o’er neck and shoulder plays. 


And now Camilla at the gates 
With Volscian troops his coming waits. 
Queen as she was, with graceful speed 
She lighted instant from her steed : 
Her train the like observance pay, 
While, standing, she begins her say : 
“ Turnus, if valiant lips may boast 
What valiant hands can do, 
Myself will front the Trojan host 
And Tyrrhene horseman crew: 
Let me the field’s first peril brave : 


BOOK XI. 401 


Bide you at home, the town to save.” 
With wondering eyes the chief surveyed 
The terrible yet lovely maid : 
Then thus: “ What thanks can speech command, 
Fair glory of the Italian land ? 
But now, since praise must needs despair 
To match your worth, my labor share. 
Afneas—so my scouts explore— 
Has sent his cavalry before 

To gallop to the town : 
He with his footmen armed for fight 
Along the mountain’s wooded height 

At leisure marches down. 
In that dark passage I prepare 
The invading Trojan to ensnare, 
That men in arms on each side set 
May clasp him as in hunter’s net. 
You marshal your embattled force 
To grapple with the Tuscan horse; 
Messapus shall attend your side, 
And Latium’s troop the charge divide, 
And brave Tiburtus’ missioned host; 
Yourself assume the leader’s post.” 
This said, with like address he plies 
Messapus and his tried allies ; 
Then quickly on his errand hies. 
There is a valley, dusk and blind, 
For martial stratagem designed : 
Its narrow walls with foliage black, 
And strait and scant the pathway’s track. 
Above there lies a table-land 

High on the far hill-top, 
Where warlike deeds might well be planned, 
Or would men combat hand to hand, 
Or on the ridge in shelter stand 

See rocky fragments drop. 

2) 


‘ 


402 THE ANEID. 


The well-known way the warrior takes, 
And in the wood his ambush makes. 


Meanwhile Diana, high in air, 
To Opis at her side, 
Her huntress-comrade, chaste and fair, 
In mournful accents cried : 
“There goes Camilla to the fight, 
In those our arms all vainly dight, 
Beloved beyond the rest; 
For not of yesterday there came 
This passion, with a sudden flame 
To touch Diana’s breast. 
When Metabus, for tyrant wrong 
Driven from the realm he scourged so long, 
Privernum’s ancient walls forsook, 
His infant girl in arms he took 
His banishment to share ; 
Casmilla was her mother styled: 
He changed the sound, and gave his child 
Camilla’s name to bear. 
He with his precious load in haste 
Was making for the mountain waste, 
By arrow-flights and javelins chased 
And thronging Volscian powers : 
Lo, as he hurries, Amasene, 
Brimming and foaming, roars between, ' 
Swollen high with new-fallen showers. 
Fain would he plunge and swim to shore, 
But paused, for love of her he bore: 
Long conning each expedient o’er, 
A course he sees at last: 
A spear he bore of solid oak, 
Knotty and seasoned by the smoke : 
To its mid shaft his child he bound, 
With cork-tree bark encompassed round, 


» 
BOOK XI. 403 


And made her firm and fast: 
The spear in his broad hand he shakes, 
And thus to Heaven petition makes: 
‘Latonian queen of greenwood shade, 
To thee I vow this infant maid: 
Thy dart she grasps in suppliant guise 
Thus early, as from death she flies: 
Extend, I pray, thy guardian care, 
And guide her through the dubious air? 
Thus having prayed, the oaken beam 
With backdrawn arm he threw: 
Loud roared the billows: o’er the stream 
Camilla hurtling flew. 
Now as pursuit grows yet more near, 
He plunges in the foaming tide, 
And standing on the further side 
Recovers with a conqueror’s pride 
The maiden and the spear. 
No peaceful home, no city gave 
Its shelter to the wanderer’s head ; 
Too stern his mold such aid to crave: 
On mountain and in lonely cave 
A shepherd’s life he led. 
*Mid tangled brakes and wild beasts’ lairs 
He reared his child on milk of mares, 
To her young lips applied the teat, 
And thence drew out the beverage sweet. 
Soon as on earth she first could stand, 
With pointed dart he armed her hand, 
And from her infant shoulder hung 
A quiver and a bow. 
For coif and robe that sweeps the ground 
A tiger’s spoils are o’er her wound. 
K’en then her tiny lance she flung, 
Or round her head the tough hide swung, 
And with her bullet deftly slung 


404 THE A®NEID. 


Brought crane or cygnet low. 
Full many a time a Tyrrhene dame has tried 
To gain her for her offspring’s bride: 
Content with Dian, in the wood 
Unstained she keeps her maidenhood. 
Ah! had she war’s contagion fled, 
Nor with the multitude been led 

The Trojans to molest! 

My true companion she had been, 
The chosen favorite of her queen, 

In that free service blest. 
Now, since the fatal hour is nigh, 
Descend, dear goddess, from on high 
To Latium’s frontier, where the war 
Is joining under evil star. 
Take these my weapons of offense, 
And draw the avenging arrow thence, 
That whoso may her life destroy, 
Be he from Italy or Troy, 

His forfeit blood may pay ; 
I in a hollow cloud will bear 
Her corpse and armor through the air 

And in her country lay.” 

Fair Opis heard the words she said, 

Then in a storm concealed 
With swift descent through ether sped, 

While loud her weapons pealed. 


Meantime the Trojans near the wall, 
The Tuscans and the horsemen all, 
In separate troops arrayed: 
Their mettled steeds the champaign spurn, 
And chafing this and that way turn: 
Spears bristle o’er the fields, that burn 
With arms on high displayed. 
Messapus and the Latian force 


BOOK XI. 405 


And Coras and Camilla’s horse 
An adverse front array : 
With hands drawn back, they couch the spear, 
And aim the dart in full career ; 
The tramp of heroes strikes the ear, 
Mixed with the charger’s neigh. 
Arrived within a javelin’s throw 
The armies halt a space, when lo! 
Sudden they let their good steeds go 
And meet with deafening cry : 
Their volleyed darts fly thick as snow, 
Dark shadowing all the sky. 
Tyrrhenus and Aconteus rash 
With lance in rest together clash, 
And falling both with hideous crash 
Inaugurate the strife: 
Each gallant steed has burst its heart: 
Like spring-launched stone or lightning’s dart, 
Hurled is Aconteus far apart, 
And spends on air his life. 
At once the line of battle breaks: 
The Latians one and all 
Sling their broad bucklers on their backs 
And gallop toward the wall : 
The Trojans follow them apace ; 
Asilas leads the martial chase. 
And now the gates were well in sight, 
When with a ringing shout 
The Latian hosts renew the fight, 
And wheel their steeds about. 
The Trojans fly with loosened reins, 
And pour promiscuous o’er the plains: 
Thus ocean, swaying to and fro, 
Now seeks the shore with onward flow, 
Rains on the cliff the sprinkled surge, 
And breaking bathes the sand’s last verge, 


406 THE AANEID. 


Now draws the rocky fragments back 
And quits the seaboard, faint and slack. 
Twice to their walls the Tuscans beat 
The routed Rutule foe, 
Twice, looking back in swift retreat, 
Their shields behind them throw. 
But when a third time hand to hand 
. The hosts in deadly méleé stand 
And man with man they close, 
Then deathful groans invade the sky ; 
Arms, men, and horses soon to die 
slent in promiscuous carnage lie ; 
Like fire the combat glows. 
Orsilochus, afraid to front 
Bold Remulus in battle’s brunt, 
Full at his charger flings a spear, 
And leaves it lodged beneath the ear. 
The generous beast, distraught with pain, 
His forefeet lifts and rears amain ; 
The rider tumbles to the plain. 
Iolas by Catillus dies, 
Herminius too, of giant size, 
Nor less in spirit bold : 
Bare was his head ; his shoulders bare 
Sustain a yellow length of hair; 
No wounds the doughty warrior scare, 
So vast his martial mold : 
Through his broad chest the spear is driven ; 
He writhes, by deadly anguish riven. 
With rivulets of slaughter reeks 
The stern embattled field, 
While each deals havoc round, or seeks 
The glory death-wounds yield. 


But fierce Camilla stems the fight 
With all an Amazon’s delight, 


BOOK XI. 40% 


One naked breast conspicuous shone 
By looping of her golden zone: 
And now she rains an iron shower, 
Thick pouring spears on spears, 
And now with unabated power 
Her mighty ax she rears; 
Behind her sounds her golden bow, 
And those dread darts the silvans know. 
Nay, should she e’en perforce retreat, 
Flying she wings her arrows fleet. 
Her favored comrades round her stand, 
Larina maid, her strong heart manned, 
Tulla, Tarpeia, ax in hand, 
Italia’s daughters they, 
Whom erst she chose, attendants true, 
Her bidding resolute to do 
In peace or battle-fray : 
So on Thermodon’s echoing banks 
The Amazons array their ranks, 
In painted arms of radiant sheen 
Around Hippolyte the queen, 
Or when Penthesilea’s car 
Triumphant breasts the surge of war ; 
The maidens with their moony shields 
Howling and leaping shake the fields. 


Who first, who last, dread maiden, died 

By thy resistless blow ? 

How many chiefs in valor’s pride 
Didst thou on earth lay low ? 

First fell Eunzus, Clytius’ heir: 

His breast, unguarded left and bare, 
Receives the lance’s wound : 

He vomits forth a crimson flood, 

Writhes dying round the fatal wood, 
And bites the bloody ground, 


408 THE ASNEID. 


Then Pagasus and Liris bleed : 
One, tumbled from his wounded steed, 
Is gathering up the rein, 
One strives his helpless hand to reach 
To his fallen friend; that moment each 
Lies prostrate on the plain. 
With these, the tale of death to swell, 
Hippotades Amastrus fell : 
Then as in wildering rout they run 
She bids her darts pursue 
Harpalycus, Demophoon, 
Tereus and Chromis too: 
A Phrygian mother mourned her son 
For every lance that flew. 
Afar in unknown arms equipped 
See Ornytus the hunter ride 
On Iapygian steed: a hide 
Enswathes him round, from bullock stripped 5 
A wolf’s grim jaws, whose white teeth grin, 
Clasp like a helmet brow and chin: 
A pike like curving sheep-hook planned 
In rustic fashion arms his hand ; 
On high he lifts his lofty crest 
That towers conspicuous o’er the rest. 
Hampered by helpless disarray 
She catches him, an easy prey, 
Transfixes, and in bitter strain 
Contemptuously insults the slain: 
“Tuscan, you deemed us beasts of chase 
That fly before the hunter’s face : 
A woman’s weapon shall unteach 
Your misproud tribe that boastful speech : 
Yet take this glory to your grave, 
Camilla’s hand your death-wound gave,” 
Orsilochus and Butes then 
(In Troy’s great host no huger men) 


BOOK XI. 409 


Their lives successive yield : 
Butes she pierces in the rear 
With her inevitable spear, 
The corslet and the helm between, 
Just where the sitter’s neck is seen 
And hangs the left-hand shield : 
Orsilochus she traps by guile : 
She flies and he pursues the while, 
Till, as in narrowing rings she wheels, 
Each treads upon the other’s heels : 
Then, rising to the stroke, she drives 
Her weighty battle-ax, and rives 
The helmet and the crown, 
F’en as he sues for grace : again 
The blow descends : the spattered brain 
The severed cheeks runs down. 
Now Aunus’ warrior son by chance 
Meets her, and quails before her glance, 
Not meanest of Liguria’s breed, 
While fate allowed his tricks to speed. 
So, when he sees no means to fly 
Or put that dreadful presence by, 
What artifice can do he tries, 
And thus with feigned defiance cries : ' 
“ Good sooth, tis chivalry indeed : 
A woman trusts her mettled steed ! 
Come now, discard those means of flight, 
And gird you for an equal fight : 
Stand face to face, you soon shall see 
Whom boasting favors, you or me.” 
Stung by the insult, fiery-souled, 
She gives her mate her horse to hold, 
And stands with maiden buckler bold 
And bare uplifted steel. 
The youth believes his arts succeed : 
Turning his rein with caitiff speed 


410 THE AENEID. 


Ie flies, and gores his panting steed 
With iron-pointed heel. 

« Ah! base Ligurian, boaster vile, 

In vain you try your native guile : 

Trickster and dastard though ye be, 

False Aunus you shall never see !” 

With foot like fire, in middle course 

She meets and heads the flying horse, 

Confronts the rider, lays him low, 

And wreaks her vengeance, foe on foe. 

Look how the hawk, whom augurs love, 

With matchless ease o’ertakes a dove 
Seen in the clouds on high : 

He gripes, he rends the prey forlorn, 

While drops of blood and plumage torn 
Come tumbling from the sky. 


But not with unregardful gaze 

The Sire of heaven the scene surveys 
From his Olympian tower : 

He bids Tyrrhenian Tarchon wage 

A deadlier fight, and stirs his rage 
With all ungentle power. 

From rank to rank the chieftain flies, 

The yielding troops with menace plies, 

Calls each by his familiar name, 

And wakes again the expiring flame : 

« What panic terror of the foe, 

What drowsy spell has made you slow, 
O hearts that will not feel ? 

A woman chases you—ye fly : 

Why don that useless armor ? why 
Parade your idle steel ? 

Yet all too quick your ears to heed 
The call of laughing dames, 

Or when the piper’s scrannel reed 


BOOK XI. 


The Bacchie dance proclaims : 
Then with keen eyes and hungry throat 
On meat and brimming cups ye gloat, 
Till seers announce the victim good 
And feast-time bids you to the wood.” 
This said, prepared himself to bleed, 
*Gainst Venulus he spurs his steed, 
Plucks from his horse the unwary foe 
And bears him on his saddle-bow. 

All Latium turns astonished eyes, 
And deafening clamors mount the skies 3 
Swift o’er the champaign Tarchon flies, 

The chief before him still : 

The spearhead from the shaft he broke, 
And scans him o’er, to plant a stroke 

Which may the readiest kill : 

The victim, struggling, guards his neck, 
And still by force keeps force in check. 
H’en as an eagle bears aloft 

A serpent in her taloned nails ; 

The reptile writhes him oft and oft, 

Rears in his ire his stiffening scales, 
And darts his bissing jaws on high: 
She with quick wing still beats the sky, 


While her sharp beak his life assails : 


So Tarchon from the midmost foe 
In triumph bears his prey : 

His heartened Lydians catch the glow, 
And back their chief’s essay. 


Now Arruns, Fate’s predestined prize, 
Circles Camilla round, 
His javelin in his hand, and tries 
The easiest way to wound. 
Where’er she leads the fierce attack, 
He follows, and observes her track ; 


411 


419 THE AONEID. 


Where’et she issues from the rout, 
He deftly shifts his reins about: 
Explores each method of advance, 
Wheels round and round, weighs chance with 
chance, 
And shakes the inevitable lance. 
Just then rich Chloreus, priest of yore 
To Cybele, bedizened o’er 
With Phrygian armor shone, 
And spurred afield his charger bold, 
A chainwork cloth with clasp of gold 
Around its body thrown. 
He, clad in purple’s wealthiest grain, 
The work of looms beyond the main, 
Launches untiring on the foe 
Gortynian shafts from Cretan bow: 
Behind a golden quiver sounds, 
A helm of gold his head surrounds: 
His saffron scarf, with gold confined, 
Flaunts, light and rustling, in the wind : 
And hose of gay barbaric wear 
And broidered vest his race declare. 
Perchance the huntress sought to gain 
Troy’s spoils, to deck a Volscian fane ; 
Perchance herself she would adorn 
In that bright gold, so proudly worn: 
Whate’er the cause, from all about 
She singles, follows, tracks him out, 
And winds him through the embattled field, 
Her eyes to coming danger sealed, 
While all the woman’s fond desire 
For plunder sets her soul on fire. 
His moment Arruns marked: he aims 
His dart, and thus to heaven exclaims: 
“ Lord of Soracte, Phoebus’ sire, 
Whose rites we Tuscans keep, 


BOOK XI. 415 


For whom the blaze of sacred fire 
Lives in the pinewood heap, 
While, safe in piety, we tread, 
Thy votaries we, on embers red, 
Grant, mightiest of the Gods above, 
My arms may this foul stain remove! 
No blazonry I look to gain, 
Trophy or spoil, from maiden slain ; 
My other deeds shall guard my name, 
And keep the doer fresh in fame ; 
This fury let me once bring low, 
Home unrenowned I gladly go.” 
Apollo granted half his prayer : 
The rest was scattered into air. 
With unexpected wound to slay 
The foe he dreads—so much he may : 
In safety to return, and see 
His stately home—that may not be : 
F’en as ’twas breathed, the wild winds caught 
The uttered prayer, and turned to nought. 


So now, as hurtling through the sky 

Flew the fell spear, each Volscian eye 
On the doomed queen was bent: 

She hears no rushing sound, nor sees 

The javelin sweeping down the breeze, 

Till ‘neath her naked breast it stood, 

And drinking deep the unsullied blood 
At length its fury spent. 

Up run her comrades, one and all, 

And stay their mistress ere she fall. 

But daunted far beyond the rest, 

Fear mixed with triumph in his breast, 
False Arruns takes to flight : 

A second time he dares not try 

The steel that served him, nor defy 


414 THE AENEID, 


The maid to further fight. 
As flies a caitiff wolf for fear 
From shepherd slain or mighty steer, 
Or ere the avenger’s darts draw near, 
To pathless mountain-steep, 
And, conscious of his guilt unseen, 
Clasps his lithe tail his legs between, 
And dives in forest deep ; 
So Arruns steals confused away, 
And flying plunges ’mid the fray. 

In vain she strives with dying hands 
To wrench away the blade : 
Fixed in her ribs the weapon stands, 
Closed by the wound it made. 

Bloodless and faint, she gasps for breath 5 

Her heavy eyes sink down in death ; 
Her cheek’s bright colors fade. 

Then thus expiring she addressed 

Her truest comrade and her best, 

Acca, who wont alone to share 

The burden of Camilla’s care : 

“Dear Acca, I have fought the fight; 
3ut now this cruel wound 

My spirit overmasters quite, 
And all grows dark around. 

Go: my last charge to Turnus tell, 

To haste with succor, and repel 

The Trojans from the town—farewell.” 

She spoke, and speaking, dropped her rein, 

Perforce descending to the plain. 

Then by degrees she slips away 

From all that heavy load of clay: 

ITer languid neck, her drowsy head 

She droops to earth, of vigor sped : 

She lets her martial weapons go: 

The indignant soul flies down below. 


BOOK XI. 415 


Loud clamors to the skies arose ; 
With fiercer heat the combat glows, 
The Volscian princess slain ; 
On, on they push, the Teucrian power, 
The Tyrrhene chiefs, their nation’s flower, 
The Arcad horseman train. 


Meanwhile Diana’s sentinel, 
Fair Opis, sits on mountain-fell 
The scene of blood to view: 
Soon as Camilla she espied 
O’erborne in battle’s raging tide, 
From her deep bosom, as she sighed, 
These piteous words she drew: 
“Too stern requital, hapless maid, 
For that your error have you paid, 
That venturous daring, which essayed 
To brave the Trojan power: 
Your woodland life, to Dian sworn, 
Those heavenly arms in combat borne, 
Alas! they left you all forlorn 
In need’s extremest hour. 
Yet not unhonored in your end 
She lets you lie, your queen and friend, 
Nor unavenged shall you descend 
A name to after time: 
For he whose arm has stretched in death 
That sacred form, his forfeit breath 
Shall compensate his crime.” 
’*Neath the high hill a barrow stood, 
Dercennus’ tomb, o’ergrown with wood 
(A monarch he of elder blood 
Who ruled Laurentum’s land): 
The Goddess, lighting with a bound, 
Paused here, and from the lofty mound 
The guilty Arruns scanned, 


416 THE AENEID. 


She saw him insolent and gay, 
And “ Why,” she cries, “so far astray ? 
This way, doomed caitiff, come this way! 
Shall vengeance vainly call? 
Here, take Camilla’s guerdon due: 
Alas the day, when such as you 
By Dian’s arrows fall! ” 
Thus having said, the maid of Thrace 
An arrow from the golden case 
Draws out, and fits for flight : 
Then at full stretch the bow she bends, 
Till now she joins the horn’s two ends, 
And touches with her left the blade 
Of the keen shaft transversely laid, 
Her bosom with the right. 
That instant Arruns heard the sound, 
And in his heart the weapon found. 
Him gasping out his life with pain 
His comrades on the dusty plain 
Unheeded leave to die; 
Triumphant Opis soars again 
Back to the Olympian sky. 


First turns to flight, its mistress slain, 
Camilla’s light-armed horseman train : 
The Rutules and Atinas fly ; 

Lorn bands and chiefs astray 
For safety to the city hie 

In rout and disarray. 
The deathful onset of the foe 

None further dares sustain : 
Each slings behind his unstrung bow, 
And horse-hoof beat in quick retreat 

tecurrent shake the plain. 

Townward there rolls a dusty cloud ; 
The matrons catch the sight 


BOOK XI. 417 


From their high station, shriek aloud, 
And on their bosom smite. 

Who gain the open portals first 

Are whelmed beneath a following burst 
Of foemen in their rear : 

No ’scaping from their piteous fate: 

E’en at the entry of the gate, 

’*Mid those dear homes they left so late, 
They feel the fatal spear. 

The wildered townsmen close the gates, 

Nor yield admittance to their mates, 
For all they beg and pray: 

K’en foemen might that carnage weep, 
Where these in arms the pass would keep 
And those would force the way. 

Sad fathers from the strong redoubt 

Look forth, and see their sons shut out: 

Some down the moat’s steep sides amain 
In helpless ruin crash : 

Some with blind haste and loosened rein 
’Gainst door and doorpost dash. 

Nay, e’en the dames on rampart high, 

Camilla’s glories in their eye, 

With might and main the artillery ply, 
So true their patriot flame: 

Make truncheons seared and knotty wood 

For lack of steel do service good, 

And ’mid the first would shed their blood 
To save their walls from shame. 


Meantime to Turnus in the glade 
Sad Acca has her news conveyed, 
Confusion great and sore ; 
The Volscian troops are disarrayed, 
Camilla lives no more ; 
On like a torrent comes the foe: 
27 


418 THE ASNEID. 


Naught stands before their wasting flow ; 
Their terrors townward pour. 

He, all on flame—so Jove requires— 

From ambushed slope and wood retires. 

Scarce out of sight he touched the plains, 

The unguarded pass Aineas gains, 

Surmounts the ridge with scant delay, 

And through the forest wins his way. 

So both make speed the walls to reach, 

Nor long the space ’twixt each and each: 

At once Afneas sees from far 

The rising dust of Latium’s war, 

And Tnrnus knows Afneas near, 

As tramp and neigh assail his ear. 

Then had they clashed that hour in fray 

And tried the fortune of the day, 

3ut Phoebus in the Hiberian seas 

Bathes his tired steeds, and sunlight flees: 

So by the walls they pitch their tents, 

And guard their mounded battlements. 


BOOK XII. 


BOOK XII. 


419 


ARGUMENT.—Turnus challenges Atneas to a single 
combat. Articles are agreed on, but broken by the 
Rutuli, who wound Aineas. He is miraculously cured 
by Venus, forces Turnus to a duel, and the poem con- 


cludes with the death of the latter. 


Wuewn Turnus sees disgrace and rout 
Have Latium’s spirit tamed, 
Himself by every eye marked out, 
His plighted promise claimed, 
With anger unallayed he fires, 
And feels the courage pride inspires, 
E’en as in Libyan plains athirst 
A lion by the hunter pierced 
Puts forth at length his might, 
Rears on his neck his angry mane, 
The shaft that galls him snaps in twain, 
And roaring claims the fight; 
So Turnus’ wrath infuriate glows, 
And, once ablaze, each moment grows. 
Then thus Latinus he bespeaks 
With flushing brow and kindling cheeks: 
“ Not Turnus, trust me, bars the way: 
No need the Phrygians should unsay 
The words they spoke in face of day, 
Their covenant disown : 
I meet him now: the victims bring 
And seal the treaty, gracious king. 
My hand shall lay the Dardan low 
Who left his Asia to the foe— 
Let Latium sit and see the show, 


420 THE AENEID. 


While I in arms alone 
Wash out the blot that stains our pride— 
Or Jet him take the forfeit bride, 

Accept the conquered throne !” 
He spoke; the aged majesty 
Of Latium makes him calm reply: 
“QO gallant youth! the more intense 
Your generous spirit’s vehemence, 
The wiselier should Latinus’ care 
For Fortune’s every chance prepare. 
Yours is your father Daunus’ reign ; 
Yours are the towns your sword has ta’en ; 
And I that speak have stores of gold 
And hand that knows not to withhold ; 
Latium has other maids unwed 
And worthy of a royal bed.* 
Thus let me speak, direct and clear, 
Though sharp the pang: now further hear: 
I might not give my daughter’s hand 
To suitor from her native land: 
Gods, prophets, with unfaltering voice 
And plain accord forbade the choice : 
But kindred sympathies are strong, 
And weeping wives can sway to wrong: 
Heaven’s ties I snapped; I failed my word; 
I drew the inexpiable sword: 
Since then what dire result of ill 
Has followed me and follows still 
Your eyes bear witness: why recall 
What Turnus feels the first of all ? 
We, twice in bloody field o’erthrown, 
Scarce in our ramparts hold our own, 
Still Tiber reeks from Latium’s veins, 

*« Yet more, three daughters in his colts are bred, 


Ang each well worthy of a royal bed.’ 
Pope's Homer, Iliad, book ix. 


BOOK XII. 491 


And whitening bone-heaps mound the plains. 
Why reel I thus, confused and blind ? 
What madness mars my sober mind ? 
If Turnus’ death makes Troy my friend, 
E’en while he lives let war have end. 
Or what will kin and country say, 
If—ward the omen, Heaven, I pray !— 
I leave him now his life to lose 

While for my daughter’s hand he sues? 
O think of war, its change and chance, 
How luck may warp the surest lance! 
Think of your father old and gray, 
Forlornly biding leagues away !” 

But Turnus’ wrath no words can tame: 
What seemed to slake but feeds the flame: 
Soon as impatience found a tongue 
With fury into speech he flung: 
“Those anxious bodings, father mine, 
For me you keep, for me resign : 

Leave me to meet the invader’s claim : 
Let death redeem the gage of fame. 

I too no feeble dart can throw, 

And flesh will bleed that feels my blow. 
No goddess mother will be there 

To tend him with a woman’s care, 
Conceal in mist his recreant flight 

And palter with a brave man’s sight.” 


But the sad queen, struck wild by fears 

Of battle’s new award, 

Death swimming in her view, with tears 

Holds fast her daughter’s lord : 

«Turnus, by these fond tears I pour, 

Tf still survives the love you bore 
To Latium’s hapless queen— 

On you our tottering age is staid ; 


499 THE 22NEID. 


On you a nation’s hopes are laid ; 
A house dismantled and decayed, 

On you is fain to lean— 
One boon I crave, but one: forbear 
The arbitrament of fight to dare : * 
For know, whate’er the chance ensue 
To Turnus, threats Amata too: 
With you I leave this hated life, 
Nor see my child my captor’s wife.” 
Her mother’s voice Lavinia hears, 
And mingles blushes with her tears ; 
Deep crimson glows the sudden flame, 
And dyes her tingling cheek with shame. 
So blushes ivory’s Indian grain 
When sullied with vermilion stain : 
So lilies set in roseate bed 
Enkindled with contagious red. 
So flushed the maid: with wildering gaze 
The passion-blinded youth surveys : 
The fiercer for the fight he burns, 
And to the queen in brief returns: 
“O let not tears nor omen ill 

Attend me to the stubborn fray 5 
Dear mother, ’tis not Turnus’ will 

The hour of destiny can stay. 
Go, Idmon, to yon Phrygian chief 
Bear tidings he will hear with grief: 
When first the morrow fires the air 
With glowing chariot, let him spare 

To lead his Teucrians on: 
Let Rutule arms and Teucrian rest ; 
His life and mine shall brook the test; 
Lavinia’s hand, our common quest, 

Shall in that field be won.” 

* « Singly to dare the arbitrament of fight.” 
Symmons’s -Zincid, book xi. 562. 


BOOK XI. 423 


So saying, to the stall he speeds, 
Bids harness his impetuous steeds, 
And pleased their fury sees, 
Which Orithyia long ago 
On king Pilumnus deigned bestow, 
To match the whiteness of the snow, 
The swiftness of the breeze. 

They bustle round, the menial train, 
Comb o’er the neck the graceful mane, 
And pat the sounding chest: 

In mail his shoulders he arrayed 
( Of gold and orichale ’twas made ) ; 
Then dons his shield, his trusty blade, 
His helm with ruddy crest ; 
That blade which to his royal sire 
The hand of Vulcan gave, 
Brought red from Lipareean fire 
And dipped in Stygian wave. 
Reposing from its work of blood 
His lance beside a column stood, 
Auruncan Actor’s prize: 
He seized it, shook the quivering wood, 
And thus impetuous cries: 
“The hour is come, my spear, my spear, 
Thou who hast never failed to hear 
Thy master’s proud appeal : 
Once Actor bore thee, Turnus now: 
Grant that my hand to earth may bow 
The Phrygian’s all unmanly brow, 
From off his breast the corslet tear, 
And soil in dust his essenced hair, 
New crisped with heated steel.” 
Such furies in his bosom rise : 
His features all ablaze 
Shoot direful sparkles: from his eyes 
A stream of lightning plays. 


494 THE A2NEID. 


So ere he tries the combat’s shock 
A bull loud bellowing makes, 

And butting at a tree’s hard stock 
His horns to anger wakes, 

With furious heel the sand upthrows, 

And challenges the wind for foes. 

Meantime in Vulcan’s arms arrayed 
Eneas mans his breast, 

tejoiced that offered truce has made 
Two hosts from battle rest: 

Then reassures his comrades’ fears 

And checks Iulus’ starting tears, 
tehearsing Fate’s decree, 

And bids his envoys answer bear 

To Latium’s monarch, and declare 
The terms of peace to be. 


Scarce had the morn her radiance shed 

On topmost mountain height, 

When, leaving Ocean’s oozy bed, 

The Sun’s fleet steeds, with upturned head, 
Breathe out loose flakes of light, 

3eneath the city’s strong redoubt 

tutule and Trojan measure out 
The combat’s listed ground, 

And altars in the midst prepare 

For common sacrifice and prayer, 
Piled up with grassy mound ; 

While others, girt with aprons, bring 

Live coals and water from the spring, 
Their brows with vervain bound. 

Through the thronged gates the Ausonian band 

Comes streaming onward, lance in hand: 
Trojans and Tuscans all, 

Equipped in arms of various show, 

Come marshaled by their ranks, as though 


BOOK XII. 


They heard the battle’s call. 
Decked out with gold and purple dye, 
From troop to troop the leaders fly, 
Mnestheus, Assaracus’s seed, 

Asilias, chief divine, 

Megsapus, tamer of the steed, 

Who comes of Neptune’s line. 
The signal given, they each recede 

Within the space assigned, 
Their javelins planted in the mead, 

Their shields at rest reclined : 


While, brimming o’er with yearning strong, 


Weak matrons, an unwarlike throng, 
And fathers, old and gray, 

Turret and roof confusedly crowd, 

Or stand beside the portals proud, 
The combat to survey. 


But Juno, seated on the mount 
That Alban now is named 
(’Twas then a hill of secant account, 
Untitled and unfamed ), 
On the two hosts were gazing down, 
The listed field, the Latian town. 
To Turnus’ sister then she said 
(A goddess she of lake and flood ; 
Such honor Jove the damsel paid 
For violated maidenhood ) : 
« Pride of all streams on earth that roll, 
Juturna, favorite of my soul, 
Thou know’st of all of Latian race 
That e’er endured great Jove’s embrace 
I still have set thee first, and given 
To share ungrudged the courts of heaven ; 
Now learn thy woes, unhappy dame, 
Nor think too late that mine the blame. 


425 


496 THE A®NEID. 


While Latium yet could keep the field 

And Fate seemed kind, I cast my shield 
O’er Turnus and his town: 

Now in ill hour he tempts the fray, 

And baleful force and Fate’s dark day 
From heaven are swooping down. 

I cannot view the unequal fight, 

Nor see that shameful treaty plight. 

Can sister nought for brother dare? 

Take heart: perchance the Gods may spare.” 

She said : Juturna’s tears ’gan flow, 

And oft she smote her breast of snow. 

“No time for tears,” Saturnia cries: 

“ Haste, save your brother ere he dies: 

Or stir again the war, and break 

(Mine be the risk ) the league they make.” 

She ceased, and left her sore distraught, 

With bleeding heart and wavering thought. 


Now to the field the monarchs came, 
Latinus, his majestic frame 
In four-horse chariot borne ; 
Twelve gilded rays, memorial sign 
Of the great Sun, his sire divine, 
His kingly brows adorn: 
Grasping two javelins as in war 
Rides Turnus in his two-horse car : 
Eneas leaves his rampired home, 
First founder of the race of Rome, 
Glorious in heavenly armor’s pride, 
With shield that beams like day ; 
And young Ascanius at his side, 
tome’s other hope and stay. 
Then to the hearth the white-robed priest 
3rings two-year sheep all richly fleeced 
And young of bristly swine ; 


BOOK XII. 497 


They turn them to the radiant east, 
With knives the victims’ foreheads score, 
Strew cakes of salted meal, and pour 
The sacrificial wine. 
Then thus with falchion’s naked blade 
Afneas supplication made : 
«Sun, and thou Land, attest my prayer 
For whom I have been fain to bear 
So many a year of woe ; 
And Jove, Amighty Sire, and thou, 
Saturnia, now at last, O now 
No more Aneas’ foe; 
Thou too, great Mars, who rul’st the fray 
By thine imperial nod, 
And you, ye Springs and Floods, I pray 
Whate’er the powers that ether sway, 
And ocean’s every god: 
If victory shall to Turnus fall, 
The vanquished to Evander’s wall 
Their instant flight shall take : 
Tulus shall the realm resign, 
Nor here in Latium seed of mine 
Fresh war hereafter wake : 
But if, as prayers and hopes foresee, 
The queen of battles smile on me, 
I will not force Italia’s land 
To Teucrian rule to bow; 
I seek no scepter for my hand, 
No diadem for my brow: 
Let race and race, unquelled and free, 
Join hands in deathless amity. 
My gods, my rites, I claim to bring: 
Let sire Latinus still be king, 
In peace and war the same ; 
The sons of Troy my destined town 
Shall build, and fair Lavinia crown 


498 THE ASNEID. 


The city with her name.” 

He spoke, and next Latinus prays 

With lifted hand and heavenward gaze: 

«“ By land, by sea, by stars I swear 
E’en as Aineas swore ; 

By queen Latona’s princely pair, 
And two-faced Janus hoar ; 

By all the infernal powers divine 

And grisly Pluto’s mystic shrine: 

Let Jove give ear, whose vengeful fire 

Makes treaties firm, the Almighty Sire: 

I touch the hearth with either hand, 

I call the Gods that ’twixt us stand: 

No time shall make the treaty vain, 
Whate’er to-day’s event ; 

No violence shall my will constrain, 

Though earth were scattered in the main 
And Styx with either blent: 

Hen as this scepter ”(as he swore 

A scepter in his hand he bore) 

“Shall ne’er put forth or leaf or gem, 

Since severed from its parent stem 
Foliage and branch it lost ; 

’T was once a tree ; now workman’s care 

Has given it Latium’s kings to bear, 
With seemly bronze embossed.” 

Thus chief and chief in open sight 

With solemn words the treaty plight ; 
Then o’er the flame they slay 

The hallowed victims, strip the flesh 

Yet quick with life, and warm and fresh 
On loaded altars lay. 


sut in the Rutules’ jealous sight 
Unequal seems the chance of fight, 
Iil matched the champions twain, 


BOOK XII. 429 


And fitfully their bosoms heave 
As near and nearer they perceive 

The encounter on the plain. 
Compassion deepening into dread, 
They note young Turnus’ quiet tread, 
The downcast meekness of his eyes 
Turned to the hearth in suppliant guise, 
Cheeks whence the bloom of health is gone, 
And that young frame so ghastly wan. 
Juturna saw their whispers grow, 
And marked them wavering to and fro: 
Then, like to Camers’ form and face— 
A warrior he of noblest race, 
Long by his father’s exploits known 
And long by valor of his own— 
She joins their ranks, each heart to read, 
And sows in all dissension’s seed : 
«“ Shame, shame, ye Rutules, thus to try 
The coward hazard of the die! 
A myriad warrior lives to shun 
The deadly risk reserved for one! 
Compute the numbers and the powers : 
Say whose the vantage, theirs or ours ? 
Behold them all, in arms allied, 
Troy and Arcadia, side by side, 
And all Etruria, leagued in hate 
Of him, our chief, the men of fate! 
Take half our force, we scarce should know 
Each for himself to find a foe. 
Ay, Turnus’ name to heaven shall rise, 
Devoted to whose shrines he dies, 

On lips of thousands borne : 
We, as in listless ease we sit, 
To foreign tyrants shall submit, 

And our lost country mourn.” 
By whisper thus and chance-dropped word 


430 THE AENEID. 


Their hearts to further rage are stirred: 

From band to band the murmur runs: 

Changed are Laurentum’s fickle sons, 
Changed is the Latian throng: 

Who late were hoping war to cease, 

Now yearn for arms, abhor the peace, 
And pity Turnus’ wrong. 


Now, heaping fuel on the flame, 
With new resource the crafty dame 
Displays in heaven a sign: 
No evidence more strongly wrought 
On Italy’s deluded thought, 
As ’twere indeed divine. 
Jove’s royal bird in pride of place 
Was putting river-fowl in chase 
And all the feathery crew, 
When swooping from the ruddy sky, 
Off from the flood he bears on high 
A swan of dazzling hue. 
The Italians gaze, when lo! the rout 
Turn from their flight and face about, 
In blackening mass obscure the skies, 
And clustering close with shrill sharp cries 
Their mighty foe pursue, 
Till he, by force and weight o’erborne, 
Dropped riverward his prey untorn 
And off to distance flew. 
With loud acclaim the Rutule bands 
Salute the portent of the skies : 
Aloft they raise their eager hands, «+ 
And first the seer Tolumnius cries : 
“ For this, for this my prayers have striven: 
I hail, I seize the omen given; 
Draw, draw with me the sword, 
Poor Rutules, whom the pirate base 


BOOK XII. 


Puts like unwarlike birds in chase, 
And spoils your river board. 
Yes, he will fly if you pursue, 
And vanish in the distant blue. 
Close firm your ranks, and bring relief 
And rescue to your ravished chief, 
All, all with one accord.” 
He said, and hurled, as forth he ran, 
His javelin at the foeman’s van 
The hurtling cornel cuts the skies: 
Loud clamors follow as it flies : 
The assembly starts in wild alarm, 
And hearts beat high with tumult warm. 
There as nine brothers of one blood, 
Gylippus’ Arcad offspring, stood, 
One, with bright arms and beauty graced, 
Receives the javelin in his waist, 
Where chafes the belt against the groin 
And “neath the ribs the buckles join ; 


Pierced through and through he falls amain, 


And lies extended on the plain. 
His gallant brethren feel the smart ; 
With falchion drawn or brandished dart 
They charge, struck blind with rage. 
Laurentum’s host the shock withstand : 
Like deluge bursting o’er the land 
The Trojan force, the Agyllan band, 
The Arcad troop engage. 
Each burns alike with frantic zeal 
To end the quarrel by the steel : 


Stripped are the hearths ; o’er all the sky © 


Dense iron showers in volleys fly: 
With eager haste they run 

To snatch the bowls and altar-sods : 

Latinus takes his outraged gods 
And leaves the league undone, 


431 


432 THE AENEID. 


Those yoke again the battle-car, 
These vault into the selle, 

And wave their falchions, drawn for war 
To challenge or repel. 


Messapus singles from the rest 

The king Aulestes, richly dressed 
In robe and regal crown ; 

Spurning the truce, his horse he pressed, 
And fiercely rides him down. 

He with a backward spring retires, 

And headlong falls ’mid altar-fires 
That meet him in the rear : 

Up spurs Messapus, hot with speed, 

And as the pale lips vainly plead 

Drives through him, towering on his steed, 
His massy beam-like spear. 

«“ He has his death,” the victor cries : 

“ Heaven gains a worthier sacrifice.” 

Around the corpse the Italians swarm, 

And strip the limbs, yet reeking warm. 

From blazing altar close at hand 

Bold Coryneus seized a brand : 

As Ebysus a death-wound aims, 

Full in his face he dashed the flames. 

The bushy beard that instant flares 

And wafts a scent of burning hairs. 

The conqueror rushes on his prize, 
Wreathes in his hair his hand, 

To his broad breast his knee applies, 
And pins him to the sand : 

Then, groveling as he lay in dust, 

Deep in his side his sword he thrust. 

Stout Alsus, born of shepherd race, 
Death in the forefront braves, 

When Podalirius gives him chase 


BOOK XII. 433 


And high his falchion waves : 

A ponderous ax the swain upheaves: 

From brow to chin the head he cleaves, 
While blood the arms o’erflows : 

A heavy slumber, iron-bound, 

Seals the dull eyes in rest profound : 
In endless night they close. 


But good Afneas chides his band, 

His head all bare, unarmed his hand, 
And, “ Whither now so fast ?” he cries : 
“ What demon bids contention rise ? 

O soothe your rage, I pray ! 
The terms are fixed, the treaty plight : 
Mine, mine alone the combat’s right : 

Be calm and give me way. 
My hand shall make the assurance true : 
Henceforward Turnus is my due.” 
Thus while to lay the storm he strives, 
Full on the chief an arrow drives : 
Sped by what arm, what wind it came, 
If Heaven or Fortune ruled its aim, 
None knew : the deed was lost to fame ; 
Nor then nor after was there found 
Who boasted of Atneas’ wound. 


When Turnus saw neas part 

Retiring from his band 

And Troy’s brave chiefs dismayed, his heart 
With sudden hope he manned : 

He calls his armor and his car, 

Leaps to his seat in pride of war, 
And takes the reins in hand. 

Full many a gallant chief he slays, 

Or pierced on earth in torture lays, 

Drives down whole ranks in fierce career, 
28 


434 THE ALNEID. 


And plies the fliers with spear on spear. 
As, where cold Hebrus parts the field, 
Grim Mars makes thunder on his shield 
And stings his steeds to fight; 
They scud, the Zephyrs not so fleet: 
Thrace groans beneath the hoof’s quick beat 3 
His dire attendants round him fly, 
Anger, and blackest treachery, 
And gloomy browed Affright: 
So where the battle sorest bleeds 
Keen Turnus drives his smoking steeds 
Insulting o’er the slain, 
While gore and sand the horse-hoof kneads 
And spirts the crimson rain. 
Thamyris and Sthenelus lie dead, 
Encountered hand to hand ; 
Pholus by spear from distance sped, 
And Glaucus too and Lades bled, 
Whom Imbrasus their father bred 
In native Lycian land, 
And trained alike to fight or speed 
Like lightning with the harnessed steed. 
Now through the field Eumedes came, 
Old Dolon’s son, of Trojan fame, 
His grandsire’s counterpart in name, 
In courage like his sire, 
Who erst, the Danaan camp to spy, 
Pelides’ car, a guerdon high, 
From Hector dared require: 
But Tydeus’ son with other meed 
Requited that audacious deed, 
And cured his proud desire. 
Him from afar when Turnus views 
With missile dart he first pursues, 
Then quits the chariot with a bound, 
Stands o’er him groveling on the ground, 


BOOK XII. 435 


Plants on his neck his foot, and tears 

From his weak grasp the lance he bears, 

Deep in his throat the bright point dyes, 

And o’er the corpse in triumph cries: 

“Lie there, and measure out the plain, 

The Hesperian soil you sought to gain: 

Such meed they win who wish me killed, 

Tis thus their city-walls they build.” 

Again he hurls his spear, and sends 

Asbytes to rejoin his friends : 

And Chloreus, Dares, Sybaris, 

The ground in quick succession kiss 3 

Thersilochus, Thymecetes too, 

Whose restive steed his rider threw. 

As when the north wind’s tyrant stress 
Makes loud the Atgzean roar, 

Still following on the waves that press 
Tumnultuous to the shore, 

Where drives the gale, the cloud-rack flies 

In wild confusion o’er the skies: 

So wheresoe’er through all the field 

Comes Turnus on, whole squadrons yield, 
Turn, and resist no more: 

The impulse bears him as he goes, 

And ’gainst the wind his plumage flows. 

With shame and anger Phegeus saw 
The chief’s insulting pride: 

He meets the car, and strives to draw 
The steeds’ tall necks aside. 

There, dragged as to the yoke he clings, 
The spear his side has found, 

Bursts through the corslet’s plaited rings, 
And prints a surface wound : 

Shifting his shield, he threats the foe, 

His sword plucks out, and aims a blow: 

When the fierce wheels with onward bound 


436 THE ASNEID. 


Dislodge and dash him to the ground : 
And Turnus’ weaponed hand, 
Stretched from the car, the head has reft 
Where helm and breastplate meet, and left, 
The trunk upon the sand. 
While Turnus heaps the plain with dead, 
Eneas, with Achates tried 
And Mnestheus moving at his side, 
And young Ascanius near, 
All bleeding to the camp is led, 
Faltering and propping up his tread 
With guidance of a spear. 
He frets and strives with vain essay 
To pluck the broken reed away, 
Demands the surest, readiest aid, 
To ope the wound with broadsword blade, 
Unflesh the barb so deep concealed, 
And send him back to battle-field. 
And now Iapis had appeared, 
Blest leech, to Phoebus’ self endeared 
Beyond all men below, 
On whom the fond indulgent God 
His augury had fain bestowed, 
His lyre, his sounding bow: 
But he, the further to prolong 
A sickly parent’s span, 
The humbler art of medicine chose, 
The knowledge of each herb that grows, 
Plying a craft unknown to song, 
An unambitious man. 
Chafing with anguish, rage, and grief, 
Impatient halts the wounded chief, 
Propped on his mighty spear : 
Iulus weeping and a band 
Of gallant youths around him stand; 


BOOK XIL. 437 


He heeds not groan or tear. 
The aged leech, his garment wound 
In Peon sort his shoulder round, 
In vain his sovereign simples plies, 
His science skilled to heal, 
In vain with hand and pincer tries 
To loose the stubborn steel. 
No happy chance on art attends, 
No patron god the leech befriends : 
And wilder grows the fierce alarm, 
And nearer yet the deadly harm: 
The thick dust props the skies: 
The tramp of cavalry they hear, 
And ’mid the cncampment dart and spear 
Rain down before their eyes: 
And dismal rings the mingled cry 
Of those that fight and those that die. 
Then Venus, all a mother’s heart 
Touched by her son’s unworthy smart, 
Plucks dittany, a simple rare, 
From Ida’s summit brown, 
With flower of purple, bright and fair, 
And leaf of softest down : 
Well known that plant to mountain goat, 
Should arrow pierce its shaggy coat. 
There as they toil, she brings the cure, 
Her bright face wrapped in cloudy hood, 
And drops it where in shining ewer 
The crystal water stood, 
With juices of ambrosia blent 
And panace of fragrant scent. 
So with the medicated flood 
The sage unknowing stanched the blood : 
When all at once the anguish fled, 
And the torn flesh no longer bled. 


488 THE ARNEID. 


Now at a touch, no violence used, 
Drops out the barbed dart, 
And strength by heavenly aid infused 
Revives the fainting heart. 
« Arms for the valiant chief!” exclaims 
Iapis: “why so slow?” 
The gentle leech the first inflames 
The warrior ’gainst the foe. 
“ Not human help, nor sovereign art, 
Nor old Iapis healed that smart: 
Tis Heaven that interferes, to save 
For greater deeds the strength it gave.” 
The chief, impatient of delays, 
His legs in pliant gold arrays, 
And to and fro his javelin sways. 
And now, his corslet round his breast, 
In his mailed arms his child he pressed, 
Kissed through his helm, and thus addressed. 
“Learn of your father to be great, 
Of others to be fortunate, 
This hand awhile shall be your shield 
And lead you safe from field to field; 
When grown yourself to manhood’s prime, 
Remember those of former time, 
Recall each venerable name, 
And catch heroic fire 
From Hector’s and Atneas’ fame, 
Your uncle and your sire.” 


So speaking, from the camp he passed, 
A godlike chief, of stature vast, 

Shaking his ashen beam: 
Mnestheus and Antheus and their train 
With kindred speed o’er all the plain 

From trench and rampart stream. 


Thick blinding dust the champaign fills, 


BOOK XIL 439 


And earth with trampling throbs and thrills,* 
Pale Turnus saw them leave the height: 
The Ausonians saw, and chilly fright 
Through all their senses ran: 
Foremost of all the Latian crew 
Juturna heard the sound and knew, 
And left the battle’s van. 
Onward he flies, and whirls along 
Through the wide plain his blackening throng. 
As, burst from heaven, with headlong sweep 
A storm comes landward from the deep: 
Through rustic hearts faint terrors creep 
As coming ill they taste : 
Ah yes! ’twill lay the standing corn, 
Will scatter trees from earth uptorn, 
And make the land a waste: 
The winds, its couriers, fly before, 
And waft its muttering to the shore: 
So the dread Trojan sweeps along 
Down on the hostile swarm ; 
Tn close battalions, firm and strong, 
His followers round him form. 
Osiris feels Thymbreus’ blow, 
At Mnestheus’ feet Anchetius lies, 
Achates slaughters Epulo, 
By Gyas Ufens dies: 
E’en proud Tolumnius falls, the seer 
Who ’gainst the foe first hurled his spear. 
Upsoars to heaven a mingled shout: 
In turn the Rutules yield, 
And huddled thick in dusty rout 
Fly wildly o’er the field. 
But he, he stoops him not to smite 
* The words ‘‘ throbs and thrills” are taken from a 


poem by a friend to whose criticism this work owes 
much, 


440 THE AINEID. 


The craven backs that turn to flight, 

Nor chases those who stand and fight, 
Intent on other aims : 

Turnus alone he cares to track 

Through dust and darkness, blinding black, 
Turnus alone he claims. 

Juturna, agonized with fear, 

Metiscus, Turnus’ charioteer, 

Flings from his seat on high, 

And leaves him fallen at distance far : 

Herself succeeds him, guides the car, 
And bids the coursers fly ; 

In voice, in form, in dress complete, 

The hapless driver’s counterfeit. 

As swallow through some mansion flies 

With courts and stately galleries, 

Flaps noisy wing, gives clamorous tongue, 

Still catering for her callow young, 

Makes cloisters echo to the sound, 

And tank and cistern circles round, 

So whirls the dame her glowing car, 

So flashes through the maze of war ; 

Now here, now there, in conquering pride 
Her brother she displays, 

Yet lets him not the encounter bide, 
But winds through devious ways : 

Nor less Afneas shifts and wheels, 
Pursues and tracks him out, 

And clamoring to his faith appeals 
Across the weltering rout: 

Oft as he marks the foe, and tries 

To match the chariot as it flies, 

So oft her scourge Juturna plies, 
And turns her steeds about. 

What should he do? he undulates 
With aimless ebb and flow: 


BOOK XII. 


His bosom’s passionate debates 
Distract him to and fro. 
Messapus then, who chanced to wield 
Two quivering darts, for battle steeled, 
Takes one, and levels with his eye, 
And bids it at Aineas fly. 
The Trojan halts, and making pause 
His arms around him closer draws, 
On bended knee firm stayed : 
The javelin struck the helmet’s cone, 
And razed the plume that, tossed and blown, 
High on its summit played. 
Then surges fury high, to know 
The baseness of the treacherous foe, 
As horse and car he sees afar 
Careering o’er the plain: 
To the just Gods appeal he makes 
Who watch the league that Turnus breaks: 
Then charges resolute to kill, 
Lets reckless slaughter rage her fill, 
And gives his wrath the rein. 


O that some God would prompt my strain 

And all those horrors tell, 

What gallant chiefs throughout the plain 

By Turnus now, pursued and slain, 
Now by neas fell! 

Was it thy will, almighty Jove, 

To such extreme of conflict drove 

Two nations, doomed in peace and love 
Through after years to dwell? 

First of the Rutules Sucro tried 

To stem the foe’s advancing tide ; 
But vain that brief delay ; 

neas caught him on the side, 

And, opening ribs and bosom wide 


441 


449 THE A°NEID. 


With the fell sword his fury plied, 
Brought death the swiftest way. 
By Turnus’ hand Diores bleeds ; 
His brother Amycus succeeds ; 
One from his steed by spear brought low, 
One, hand to hand, by falchion’s blow ; 
Their severed heads the victor bore 
Fixed to his car, distilling gore. 
That sends down Talos to the grave 
With Tanais and Cethegus brave, 
Three chiefs at once struck dead, 
And sad Onites, him who came 
From Peridia, noble dame, 
Born in Echion’s bed. 
This lays in death the brethren twain 
From Lycia, Phoebus’ own domain, 
And young Mencetes, who in vain 
Had shunned the battle’s roar: 
An Arcad he by Lerna’s side 
His fisher craft obscurely plied, 
Contented to be poor: 
In honest penury his sire 
Tilled scanty ground let out to hire, 
Nor knocked at rich man’s door. 
As fires that launched on different ways 
Stream tbrough a wood of crackling bays, 
Or torrents that from mountain steep 
Tumbling and thundering toward the deep 
Plow each his own wild path; 
/fneas thus and Turnus fly 
Through the wild field; now, now ’tis nigh, 
The boiling-point of wrath ; 
Their fierce hearts burst with rage ; they throw 
A giant’s force on every blow. 
Murranus that, whose boastful tongue 
With high-born sires and grandsires rung, 


: BOOK XII. 443 


And pedigrees of long renown 
Through Latian monarchs handed down, 
Smites with a stone of mountain size 
And tumbles on the sward : 
By reins and harness caught, the wheels 
Still drag him on: the horses’ heels 
Beat down and crush him as he lies, 
Unmindful of their lord. 
While this, as Hyllus overbold 
In furious onset springs, 
Full at his brows, encased in gold, 
A bitter javelin flings ; 
Through the bright helm the weapon passed, 
And rooted in the brain stood fast. 
Nor could thy prowess, Cretheus brave, 
*Gainst Turnus’ coming stand, 
Nor those his gods Cupencus save 
From out Atneas’ hand: 
His bosom met the impetuous blade, 
Nor long the shield its fury stayed. 
Thou too, great Afolus, the plains 
Of Latium saw thee dead ; 
They saw thy giant-like remains 
Wide o’er their surface spread: 
Fallen, fallen art thou, whom not the bands 
Of Argos could destroy, 
Nor those unconquerable hands 
Which wrought the doom of Troy: 
*T was here thy sepulcher was made, 
Thy palace high ’neath Ida’s shade: 
Lyrnesus reared thy palace high, 
Laurentum gave thee room to die. 
So turning, rallying, front to front, 
Face the two hosts the battle’s brunt: 
The Latian and the Dardan throng, 
Brave Mnestheus and Serestus strong, 


444 THE AINEID. 


Messapus, tamer of the horse, 
Asilas with his Tuscan force, 
Evander’s Arcad train, 
Each for himself, make desperate fight— 
No stint to stay—and all their might 
With fierce contention strain. 


Now Venus prompts her darling chief 

To lead his forces to the town, 

And with a sudden stroke and brief 
On the scared foe come down. 

As tracking Turnus’ truant car 
He sweeps his vision round and round 
The town he sees in peace profound, 

Unscathed by all that war, 

At once upon his inward sight 

The image dawns of grander fight: 

Sergestus and Serestus tried 

He calls with Mnestheus to his side, 
And on a mound takes stand : 

Round in dense ranks the Trojans swarm, 

The shield still cleaving to their arm, 
The javelin in their hand. 

Then from the height he thus began : 

«“« Now hearken and obey, each man: 
Our cause is Jove’s own cause : 

Nor, sudden though the change of plan, 
Let any plead for pause. 

This town, the source of all the fray, 

The center of Latinus’ sway, 

Unless they bow them to the yoke 
And own my conquering power, 

In ruin on the ground shall smoke 
From base to topmost tower. 

What, I forsooth to stand and wait 

Till Turnus deign to end debate, 


BOOK XII. 


And humbled by his old defeat, 

Prepare once more my call to meet ? 

Here, here it stands, the foul spring-head 

Of all this blood so basely shed: 

Quick with your torches, and demand 

Our rightful treaty, fire in hand.” 

He said: with emulous speed they form, 

And rush in mass the walls to storm. 

Forth come the ladders swift as thought, 

Fire, fagot, pitch at once are brought ; 

Some to the gates impetuous crowd, 
And guard and sentry slay ; 

Some hur! their javelins, and o’ercloud 
With darts the face of day. 

Afneas, foremost of the band, 

Lifts up to heaven the appealing hand, 
Beneath the rampart’s shade, 

Upbraids Latinus loud and long, 

And bids the Gods attest his wrong, 

Forced on another war, though loth, 

The Italians twice his foes, their troth 
A second time betrayed. 

Among the citizens within 

Rises a wild discordant din: 

Some to the foe would ope the town, 
The portals backward fling, 

And to the city walls bring down 
The venerable king ; 

Some, all on fire, for weapons call, 

And hasten to defend the wall. 

As when some venturous swain has tracked 

The bees, in hollow rock close packed, 
With fumes of pungent smoke, 

They through their waxen quarters course, 

And murmuring passionate and hoarse 
Their patriot rage provoke; 


445 


446. THE A=NEID. 


The dusk scent issues from the doors; 
A buzzing dull and blind 

Thrills the deep cave: the smoke upsoars, 
And mingles with the wind. 


Thus as they toil, a further woe 
The Latian realm o’ertook : 
Each faint heart reeled beneath the blow, 
And the whole city shook. 
When from the towers the queen looked down 
And saw the foe draw nigh, 
The scaling-ladders climb the town, 
The firebrands roofward fly, 
At once she deemed her favorite slain: 
Keen anguish smites her wildered brain: 
With many a curse her head she heaps, 
Sole cause of all that Latium weeps, 
And wailing oft and raving tears 
The gay purpureal robes she wears : 
Then fastens from a beam on high 
A noose, in ghastly wise to die. 
When Latium’s maids and matrons hear 
That news of wonderment and fear, 
Lavinia first her bright hair rends 
And wounds her rose-red cheeks : 
Around her rave her mourning friends 5 
The courts repeat their shrieks. 
From house to house wide spreads the tale: 
The scant remains of valor fail. 
Bowed to the earth with woe on woe, 
His consort dead, his town brought low, 
The hapless king his raiment tears, 
And soils with dust his silver hairs, 
While oft himself he blames, 
Who gave not to his crown an heir, 
A bridegroom to his daughter fair, 


BOOK XII. 


Nor owned Afneas’ claims. 


Turnus meanwhile in fields afar 
Drives straggling foes before his car, 
Slower and yet slower his coursers’ stride, 
And less and less their master’s pride. 
Lo! on the gale from distance sped 
Comes sounds of strange bewildering dread ; 
The gathering hum, confused and drear, 
Of the lost city strikes his ear. 
« Alas! what sounds are these that rise, 
The voice of grief and pain? 
What tumult shakes the town?” he cries, 
And wildly draws his rein. 
His dauntless sister, as she plies 
The chariot in Metiscus’ guise, . 
Turned round and thus began: 
“ Nay, Turnus, urge we still our steeds 
*°Gainst the spent foe, where victory leads ; 
Latium has sons to serve her needs, 
Her leaguered towers to man. 
neas on the Italians falls, 
And follows vengeance as she calls: 
Such too be Turnus’ aim ; 
Send death among his Teucrian train ; 
Not less your muster-roll of slain, 
Nor less your share of fame.” 
“ Sister, I knew you,” Turnus spoke, 
“ When first by craft the truce you broke, 
And plunged in battle’s tide, 
And now in vain you cheat mine eye: 
But say, who sent you from the sky 
This cruel woe to bide? 
From heaven you came—for what? to see 
Your brother’s dying agony ? 
What can I else? what hope of life 


447 


448 THE AENEID. 


Holds Fortune forth, in such a strife ? 
But now Murranus I beheld, 
The mighty by the mighty quelled; 
He fell, invoking as he fell 
The recreant friend he loved too well. 
See Ufens prostrate on his face 
Averts his eyes from my disgrace, 
While Troy rejoices in her prey, 
His armor and his breathless clay! 
“And must I drain the dregs of shame 
And leave the town to sink in flame, 
Nor, prompt to combat and to die, 
Make Drances yet retract his lie? 
What! own defeat? let Latian eyes 
See Turnus, Turnus as he flies ? 

Is death indeed so sore ? 
O hear me, Manes, of your grace, 
Since heavenly powers have hid their face ! 
Pure and unsoiled by caitiff blame, 
I join your company, nor shame 

My mighty sires of yore.” 


Scarce had he said, with headlong speed 
Comes Saces up on foaming steed : 
His bleeding face a shaft had gored, 
And Turnus thus his voice implored: 
“Turnus, save you no hope is ours: 
O think of your own race! 
Like thundercloud Afneas lowers, 
Threatening to raze and sack our towers, 
And firebrands mount apace. 
On you is turned each Latian eye ; 
Latinus doubts to whom 
His tottering fortune to ally, 
Whom choose his daughter’s groom. 
The queen, your firmest friend, is dead, 


BOOK XII. - 449 


By her own hand to darkness sped : 
Messapus at the gates alone 
And brave Atinas hold their own ; 
Around them throngs the hostile band ; 
Steel harvests bristle all the land: 
You unconcerned your chariot ply 
Through fields the battle’s tide leaves dry. 
O’erwhelmed by surging thoughts of ill 
Turnus in mute amaze stood still: 
Fierce boils in every vein 
Indignant shame and passion blind, 
The tempest of the lover’s mind, 
The soldier’s high disdain. 
Soon as apart the shadows roll 
And light once more illumes his soul, 
Backward his kindling eyes he threw 
And grasped the town in one wide view. 
Lo! tongues of flame to heaven aspire: 
The turret’s floors are wrapped in fire, 
The tower he made to vex the foe 
With bridge above and wheels below. 
“The Fates, the Fates must have their way: 
O sister! cease to breed delay ; 
Where Heaven and cruel Fortune call, 
There let me follow to my fall. 
I stand to meet my foe, to bear 
The pangs of death, how keen soe’er: 
Disgraced you shall not see me more: 
Let frenzy fill the space before.” 
He said, and vaulting from his car 
Plunged headlong through the opposing war, 
His sister in her sorrow left, 
And fierce and fast the squadrons cleft. 
Look how from mountain summit borne 
By wind or furious rain down-torn 
Or gentler lapse of ages worn 
29 


450 THE AENEID. 


Comes down a thundering stone 3 
Headlong it falls with impulse strong, 
The unpitying rock, and whirls along 

Woods, cattle, swains o’erthrown: 
So bounding onward, scattering all, 
Comes Turnus to the city-wall, 

Where pools of bloodshed soak the ground 
And the shrill gales with javelins sound 3 
Then signals with his upraised hand 
And lifts the voice of high command : 
“ Rutules, forbear! your darts lay by, 
Ye Latian ranks! not you, but I 
Must meet whate’er betide : 
Far better this my arm alone 
For broken treaty should atone, 

And battle’s chance decide.” 

The armies right and left give place, ; 
And yield him clear and open space. 


But great Auneas, when he hears 
The challenge of his foe, 
The leaguer of the town forbears, 
Lets tower and rampart go, 
Steps high with exultation proud, 
And thunders on his arms aloud ; 
Vast as majestic Athos, vast 
As Eryx the divine, 
Or he that roaring with the blast 
Heaves his huge bulk in snowdrifts massed, 
The father Apennine. 
Italian, Trojan, Rutule, all 
One way direct the eye,—- 
Who man the summit of the wall, 
Who storm the base to work its fall,— 
And lay their bucklers by. 
Latinus marvels at the sight, 


BOOK XII. 451 


Two mighty chiefs, who first saw light 
In realms apart, met here in fight 
The steel’s award to try. 
Soon as the space between is clear, 
Each, rushing forward, hurls his spear, 
And bucklers clashed with brazen din 
The overture of fight begin. | 
Earth groans: fierce strokes their falchions deal : 
Chance joins with force to guide the steel. 
As when two bulls engage in fight 
On Sila’s and Taburnus’ height 
And horns with horns are crossed : 
Long since the trembling hinds have fled; 
The whole herd stands in silent dread ; 
The heifers ponder in dismay, 
Who now the country-side will sway, 
The monarch of the host: 
Giving and taking wounds alike, 
With furious impact home they strike ; 
Shoulder and neck are bathed in gore: 
The forest depths return the roar. 
So, shield on shield, together dash 
Afneas and his Daunian foe ; 
The echo of that deafening crash 
Mounts heavenward from below. 
Great Jove with steadfast hand on high 
His balance poises in the sky, 
Lays in each scale each rival’s fate, 
And nicely ponders weight with weight, 
To see whom war to doom consigns, 
And which the side that death inclines. 


Fearless of danger, with a bound 
Young Turnus rises from the ground, 
And, following on the sword he sways, 

Comes down with deadly aim: 


452 THE ZZNEID. 


Latium and Troy intently gaze, 

And swell the loud acclaim. 
When lo! the faithless weapon breaks, 
And ’mid the stroke its lord forsakes: 

Flight, flight alone can aid: 
Swifter than wings of wind he flees, 
Soon as an unknown hilt he sees 

Disfurnished of its blade. 
> Tis said, when with impatience blind 

He first the battle sought, 
Leaving his father’s sword behind 

Metiscus’ steel he caught; 

While routed Troy before him fled, 
That sword full well his need bested : 
Soon as ’twas tried on arms divine, 

It snapped like ice in twain, 

The mortal blade ; the fragments shine, 

Strewed on the yellow plain. 

So Turnus traverses the ground, 

Doubling and circling round and round 
In purposeless career, 

For all about him stand his foes, 

And here high walls the scene enclose, 

And there a spacious mere. 


Nor less, though whiles his stiffening knees, 
Slacked by his wound, their work refuse, 
/Eneas follows as he flees 
And step with step the foe pursues. 
As tracks a hound with noise and din 
A deer by river deep hemmed in 
Or plume of crimson grain : 
The straight steep bank, the threatening snare 
The hunted beast from progress scare : 
She winds and winds again : 
fhe Umbrian keen forbids escape, 


BOOK XIL 453 


Hangs on her flank with jaws agape, 
Snaps his vain teeth that close on nought, 
He catching still, she still uncatght. 
Turnus flies on, and as he flies 
To every Rutule loudly cries, 
Calls each by name, invokes their aid, 
And clamors for his well-known blade. 
A€neas in imperious tone 
Denounces death should help be shown, 
Threats the doomed town with sword and flame, 
And, wounded, follows on the same. 
Five times they circle round the place, 
Five times the winding course retrace: 
No trivial game is here: the strife 
Is waged for Turnus’ own dear life. 
A wilding olive on the sward, 

Sacred to Faunus, late had stood : 
The seamen’s dutiful regard 

Preserved that venerable wood: 
There hung they, rescued from the wave, 
The weeds they doffed, the gifts they gave. 
When for the fight the ground was traced, 
The Trojans felled it in their haste, 
Reckless of sacred or profane, 
That nought might break the level plain. 
Here Iodged Atneas’ javelin : here 
It lighted, borne in fierce career, 

And in this stump stood fast: 
He strives the weapon to unroot, 
And whom he cannot catch on foot 

O’ertake by lance’s cast. 
Then out cries Turnus, wild with fear: 
«Great Faunus, of thy pity hear! 

Sweet Earth, hold fast the steel, 
If Turnus still has held divine 
Those sanctities which Troy’s rude line 


454 THE AENEID. 


Treads down ‘neath battle’s heel!” 
So prayed he: nor his prayers were vain: 

Long o’er tlie stump Aineas hangs, 
And tugs with many a fruitless strain 

To make the hard-wood loose its fangs 3 
When lo! impatient as he strives, 

Changed to Metiscus’ shape once more 
Forth runs the Daunian fair, and gives 

Her brother back the sword he wore. 
Then Venus, filled with ire to see 

A Nymph assume so bold a part, 
Approached, and from the stubborn tree 

Tore out the long-imprisoned dart. 
Again the haughty chiefs advance, 

Their strength repaired, their arms restored, 
That towering with uplifted lance, 

This waving high his faithful sword, 
And front to front resume the game 
That drains the breath and racks the frame. 


Meanwhile Olympus’ master, Jove, 
Addressed his queenly bride, 
As from a yellow cloud above 
The warring chiefs she eyed: 
“ What now the end, fair consort, say ? 
What latest stake remains to play ? 
Long since you knew, and owned you knew, 
fEneas to the skies is due, 
A nation’s hero: Fate’s own power 
Uplifts him to the starry tower. 
What plan you now? what hopes o’erbold 
Thus keep you throned aloft in cold ? 
Think you ’twas right a God decreed 
3y mortal treachery should bleed, 
Or Turnus—for apart from you 
What mischief could Juturna do ?— 


BOOK XII. ABs 


Receive his long-lost sword again, 

And strength be waked in vanquished men ? 
Tis Jove entreats: at length give way ; 
Permit my prayers your will to sway ; 
Nor brood in silent grief, nor vent 
From those sweet lips your ill-content. 
The end is reached. By land and main 
I let you vex the Dardan train, 

Stir guilty war, a home o’ercloud, 

And bridal joys with mourning shroud. 
Attempt no further.” Jove’s fair queen 
Bespoke her spouse with duteous mien : 


« Your known good pleasure is the cause, 

Dread lord, that Juno now withdraws 

From Turnus and the fight ; 
You would not see me else in air 
Content to sit resigned and bear : 
No; armed with torches should I stand 
In battle, and with red right hand 

My Trojan foeman smite. 
I roused, I own, Juturna’s zeal 
To venture for her brother’s weal : 
Yet bade I not to launch the steel 

Or bend the deadly bow: 
By Styx’ dire fountain I make oath, 
The sole dread form of solemn troth 

Olympus’ tenants know. 
And now in truth behold me yield 
And quit for aye the accursed field. 
Vouchsafe me yet one act of grace 
For Latium’s sake, our sire’s own race: 
No ordinance of fate withstands 
The boon a nation’s pride demands. 
When treaty, ay, and love’s blest rite 
The warring hosts in peace unite, 


456 THE ASNEID. 


Respect the ancient stock, nor make 
The Latian tribes their style forsake, 
Nor Troy’s nor Teucer’s surname take, 
Nor garb nor language let them change 
For foreign speech and vesture strange, 
But still abide the same : 
Let Latium prosper as she will, 
Their thrones let Alban monarchs fill ; 
Let Rome be glorious on the earth, 
The center of Italian worth ; 
But fallen Troy be fallen still, 
The nation and the name.” 


With mirthful laughter in his eye 
The World’s Creator made reply : 
«“ There Jove’s own sister spoke indeed, 
Our father Saturn’s other seed, 
So vast the waves of wrath that roll 
In that indomitable soul ! 
But come, let baffled rage give way : 
I grant your prayer, and yield the day. 
Ausonia shall abide the same, 
Unchanged in customs, speech, and name: 
The sons of Troy, unseen though felt, 
In fusion with the mass shall melt: 
Myself will give them rites, and all 
Still by the name of Latins call. 
The blended race that thence shall rise 
Of mixed Ausonian blood 
Shall soar alike o’er earth and skies, 
So pious, just, and good: 
Nor evermore shall nation pay 
Such homage to your shrine as they.” 
Saturnia hears with altered mind, 
Triumphant now and proud : 
The sky meantime she leaves behind, 


BOOK XII. ADT 


And quits her chilly cloud. 


This done, the Father in his heart 
New counsels ponders o’er, 
To force Juturna to depart 
Nor help her brother more. 
Two fiends there are of evil fame, 
The Dire their ill-omened name, 
Whom at a birth unkindly Night 
With dark Megera brought to light, 
With serpent-spires their tresses twined, 
And gave them wings to cleave the wind. 
On Jove’s high threshold they appear 
Before his throne, and lash to fear 
Mankind’s unhappy brood, 
When grisly death the Sire prepares 
And sickness, or with battle scares 
A guilty multitude. 
Such pest as this the Thunderer sent 
Down from the Olympian sky, 
And bade it, for an omen meant, 
Across Juturna fly. 
Down swoops the portent, fierce and fast, 
With swiftness of a whirling blast: 
Not swifter bounds from off the string 
The dart that with envenomed sting 
The Parthian launches on the wing, 
The Parthian or the Crete ; 
Death-laden past the cure of art 
Flies through the shade the hurtling dart, 
So secret and so fleet. 
E’en thus the deadly child of Night 
Shot from the sky with earthward flight. 
Soon as the armies and the town 
Descending she descries, 
She dwarfs her huge proportions down 


458 THE ASNEID. 


To bird or puny size, 
Which perched on tombs or desert towers 
Hoots long and lone through darkling hours: 
In such disguise, the monster wheeled 
Round Turnus’ head, and ’gainst his shield 
Unceasing flapped her wings: 
Strange chilly dread his limbs unstrung: 
Upstands his hair : his voiceless tongue 
To his parched palate clings. 
But when from far Juturna heard 
The whirling flight of that foul bird, 
She rent her hair as sister mote, 
Her cheeks she tore, her breast she smote : 
« Ah Turnus! what can sister now ? 
How other prove than cruel? how 
Prolong your forfeit life ? 
Can Goddess meet with fearless brow 
A pest like this? At length I bow 
And part me from the strife. 
Nay, sparc to aggravate my fear, 
Ye birds of evil wing ! 
I know the sounds that stun mine ear: 
That death-note speaks the hests severe 
Of heaven’s imperious king. 
No meeter guerdon can he find 
For maiden purity resigned ? 
Why gave he life to last for aye ? 
Why took the laws of death away ? 
Else might I end at once my woe, 
And with my brother pass below. 
Immortal! can the thought be true ? 
O brother! have I joy save you ? 
O would the earth but yawn so wide 
A Goddess in its depth to hide, 
And send her to the dead!” 
Thus groaning, in her robes of blue 


BOOK XII. A59 


Her head she wrapped, and plunged from view 
Down to the river’s bed. 


/Eneas presses on his foe, 
Poising his tree-like dart, 
And utters ere he deals the blow 
The gall within his heart : 
“ What now is Turnus’ next retreat ? 
What new escape is planned ? 
No contest this of feet with feet, 
But deadly hand with hand. 
Take all disguises man can wear ; 
Call to your succor whatsoe’er 
Or art or courage may : 
Find wings to climb the Olympian steep, 
Or plunge in subterranean deep, 
Hid from the torch of day.” 
He shook his head: “ Your swelling phrase 
Appals not Turnus: no: 
The Gods, the Gods this terror raise, 
And Jupiter my foe.” 
He said no more, but, looking round, 
A mighty stone espied, 
A mighty stone, time-worn and gray, 
Which haply on the champaign lay, 
Set there erewhile the land to bound, 
And strifes of law decide : 
Scarce twelve strong men of later mold 
That weight could on their necks uphold, 
To-day’s degenerate sons: 
He caught it up, and at his foe 
Discharged it, rising to the throw 
And straining as he runs. 
But wildering fears his mind unman: 
Running, he knew not that he ran, 
Nor throwing that he threw: 


460 THE AUNEID. 


Heavily move his sinking knees ; 
The streams of life wax dull and freeze : 
The stone, as through the void it past, 
Failed of the measure of its cast, 

Nor held its purpose true. 
E’en as in dreams, when on the eyes 
The drowsy weight of slumber lies, 
In vain to ply our limbs we think, 
And in the helpless effort sink ; 
Tongue, sinews, all, their powers bely, 
And voice and speech our call defy: 
So, labor Turnus as he will, 
The Fury mocks the endeavor still. 
Dim shapes before his senses reel: 

On host and town he turns his sight : 
He quails, he trembles at the steel, 

Nor knows to fly, nor knows to fight: 
Nor to his pleading eyes appear 
The car, the sister charioteer. 


The deadly dart Aineas shakes : 
His aim with stern precision takes, 
Then hurls with all his frame : 
Less loud from battering engine cast 
Roars the fierce stone ; less loud the blast 
Follows the lightning’s flame. 
On rushes as with whirlwind wings 
The spear that dire destruction brings, 
Makes passage through the corslet’s marge, 
And enters the seven-plated targe 
Where the last ring runs round. 
The keen point pierces through the thigh: 
Down on his bent knee heavily 
Comes Turnus to the ground. 
With pitying groans the Rutules rise 5 
The mountain to their grief replies ; 


BOOK XII. 


The lofty woods resound. 
Now fallen, an upward look he sends, 
And pleadingly his hand extends ; 
“ Yes, I have earned,” he cries, “ the fate 
No weakling prayers may deprecate : 
Let those enjoy that win. 
If thought of helpless sire can touch 
Your heart—Anchises once was such— 
Show grace to Daunus, old and gray, 
And me, or, if you will, my clay, 
Send back to home and kin. 
Yours is the victory: Latian bands 
Have seen me stretch imploring hands: 
The bride Lavinia is your own: 
Thus far let foeman’s hate be shown.” 


Rolling his eyes, Aineas stood, 
And checked his sword, athirst for blood. 
Now faltering more and more he felt 
The human heart within him melt, 
When round the shoulder wreathed in pride 
The belt of Pallas he espied, 
And sudden flashed upon his view 
Those golden studs so well he knew, 
Which Turnus in his hour of joy 
Stripped from the newly-slaughtered boy, 
And on his bosom bore to show 
The triumph of a satiate foe. 
Soon as his eyes at one fell draught 
Remembrance and revenge had quaffed, 
Live fury kindling every vein, 
He cries with terrible disdain: 
“ What! in my friend’s dear spoils arrayed 

To me for mercy sue ? 

Tis Pallas, Pallas guides the blade: 
From your cursed blood his injured shade 


461 


469 THE ANEID. 


Thus takes the atonement due.” 
Thus as he spoke, his sword he drave 

With fierce and fiery blow 
Through the broad chest before him spread : 
The stalwart limbs grow cold and dead: 
One groan the indignant spirit gave, 

Then sought the shades below. 


THE END. 


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